


Some Funky Drabbles

by MisterRJ



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Male Character, Wing AU, i cant spell, i will be talk about wilbur villian arch, no one can stop me, no ships, wilbur needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterRJ/pseuds/MisterRJ
Summary: Just me projecting onto minecraft twitch streamers, because I'm very mentally ill. Don't mind meI'll probably write like, Trans Tommy au, mentally ill Wilbur, and maybe some light hearted brotherly stuff because I live for that.
Comments: 118
Kudos: 535





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The usual. If anyone in the fic says they're uncomfortable with this sort of thing I'll delete it.  
> It's not speculation or anything. Once again, just me projecting my own problems onto their internet personas.

Tommy wasn’t a kid with a lot of fears. He was loud, brazen, and frequently described as annoying. But, there was always one thing in the back of his mind. He didn’t know if he would describe it as a fear, specify. Maybe he was just lying to himself though. He feared what people would think, even if the situation was illogical. It was impossible not to. 

The fear was the fact he was trans. He didn’t like to talk about it. The only people who knew would avoid the subject like the plague. Tommy didn’t mind, he understood it was hard to grasp. Why talk about something so unnecessary, when it could change how people think of him or ruin friendships entirely?

Which led him to this moment. He was sitting with his friends from the internet. Both Tubbo and Wilbur were there and Tommy was overflowing with joy for most of the day. Now, after dinner, the tone had shifted, and the three were casually chatting at Wilbur’s place. Will had even pointed out that Tommy was calmer than usual. Tubbo laughed and agreed.

Tommy smiled to himself. The three were talking about how streaming could seem overwhelming a lot of the time. It was another niche topic that very few people could relate to. The conversation soon switched to the way their fans viewed them.

“It’s really interesting to hear about people who hear my music for the first time, even though I posted the songs years ago. It’s nice. One person on Twitter tweeted at me that they had that moment where they’re like ‘wow, holy shit. A youtuber I basically idolize goes through the same shit as me.”’ Wilbur said. “It’s a little weird, but I suppose it’s sort of like like the ‘you’re not alone in this kind of thing,’ right,” Wilbur asked.  
Tommy and Tubbo quickly agreed, and Tubbo added on.

“Yeah, like how Eret has the coming out counter on his streams. I’d never known an actual lgbtq person before that you know,” He paused. “Am I forgetting a letter?”

Tommy and Wilbur let out short laughs and they reassured him he got it right.

Tommy felt a combination of relaxed, emotional and brave. This always led somewhere interesting, and Tommy could never stop himself from talking, so his consensus took a backseat to his actual thoughts when he spoke. At this point the filter of his brain was pulling out the popcorn.

“Yeah it’s lesbian, gay, bisexual,”

“Like Eret,” Tubbo interjected. Tommy smiled to himself, taking it upon himself to guess Tubbo was tired at this point.

“Trans, and then just queer,” Tommy finished.

“It’s too bad there aren’t any big trans streamers,” Wilbur said simply. “The fans were so welcoming about Eret, but there are still a lot of prejudices about trans people in the community. Some of the misconceptions about them I see sometimes makes me sick.”

Tommy smiled. He knew a large portion of his fans were lgbtq but it didn’t make him any less nervous. He decided to rip it off like a bandage.

“I have something to tell you guys,” Tommy said quickly and quietly. “Like serious.” Wilbur and Tubbo remained silent, looking at him after nodding. “I’m trans.” He looked at the ceiling for a minute, before the two hugged him from both sides. 

“Thanks for telling us Tommy,” Tubbo said. Tubbo cuddled into Tommy and Tommy held him in return. Wilbur’s hug was lighter, but still as emotional. 

Wilbur added a simple, “Yeah, and if you need to talk about it with anyone, we’re always open.”  
Tommy hadn’t even realized he’d start crying.

Wilbur supplied a kleanax and Tubbo provided more hugging.

After Tommy calmed himself, they gave him some space. “Sorry about the crying. It’s been a while since I’ve told anyone.”

“Its fine, Tommy,” Tubbo said, reaching for a kleanax himself.  
“What pronouns would you like us to use?” Wilbur asked politely.

“He/him is good,” Tommy said. “I’ve already transitioned.” Tommy smiled to himself. Even though it’s been a while since he’d had a bad trans kid experience, it felt good to know you pass. 

Tubbo piped up, “Can I ask if you were born as a girl?”

Tommy shook his head, “It was actually like being born in the wrong body, not changing into a boy.”

Tubbo nodded, “Oh okay. I guess it’d feel pretty wrong if I were born in a girl’s body.”

Wilbur spoke again, being a bit more careful than Tubbo. “If I could ask, are you binding currently?”

“Yes, unfortunately, I only have a few,” Tommy said awkwardly.

“Alright, I know what I’m getting you next holiday.”

Once again, Tubbo inquired, “What is a binder?”

Tommy answered simply, “It’s to make me look more like a man, you know, for my chest.”

Tubbo nodded again.

“Do you think you’ll ever come out to your stream?” Tubbo asked, curious as usual.

“It might be a while. I’ve only ever told a couple people irl, and I’ve had mixed reactions from them all, but like Wilbur said, there are still a lot of misconceptions about people like me. I’m not ready for that yet.”

Wilbur smiled, “Well, we’ll support you no matter what, child.”

Tommy shouted a ‘hey’ at the use of the word ‘child’ but all was forgotten when Tubbo hugged him again and Wilbur ruffled his hair.

Over the next few weeks after that, Tommy noticed an uptake in Wilbur and Tubbo calling out transphobic people in chat. Although, Tommy thought to himself, it would’ve been nice if they’d done it even before then. This would be the perfect time for Tommy to make a callback to the conversation earlier. You know, when Wilbur mentioned the fan listening to his music for the first time. Sometimes something doesn’t feel real or important until someone important to you is experiencing it. 

It didn’t matter when they started it, only that they were doing it now, he thought. And they cared so much, too much even. The viewers began to speculate, but Tubbo and Wilbur showed up to comfort him. 

The situation cooled down after a serious steam with Tommy, Wilbur, and Tubbo about boundaries, and they all even talked about various lgbtq issues in the streamer community. Tommy faked cluelessness for a lot of it, to throw people off and thankfully Wilbur and Tubbo caught on. Wilbur, being the godsend that he was, told the viewers he had been told a large portion of his audience was bi and then he decided to do research on the whole community.

The steam ended and the three felt very successful. They went out to eat and had a pleasant night of laughter and love. Tommy thought to himself, he couldn’t be more grateful for his wonderful friends.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at chapter names
> 
> Tommy's sad, but hurt/comfort
> 
> Also, no, your honor, they’re brothers

Tommy couldn’t be more embarrassed or scared. There was nothing like having a panic attack on the bathroom floor, trying to hold back sobs and failing, all while being covered in your own blood. He was scared out of his goddamn mind and he couldn’t move. The clock ticked the background, but it was covered by his sniffles and fast breathing.

He knew he should’ve been streaming by then. He also knew he should’ve put on a pad. Or gotten up from editing when he felt weird. There were a lot of things that Tommy didn’t do that he should’ve.

The fact he was letting down all his fans pushed him even further. Would they expect an explanation for this? If he said he was sick, and this happened again in the future, he couldn’t use that excuse again. They weren’t stupid or anything.

Trying harder to stop his crying only made him sob harder out of frustration. It was an endless cycle that would keep going until he was too sleepy and just passed out. It would be inconvenient, but he couldn’t deal with this right now. He really couldn’t. He remained crying, running his hands through his hair and gripping his head.

He was crying so loudly he didn’t hear Wilbur come in and walk to his bathroom. Wilbur slowly knocked on the door and Tommy sniffles grew louder looking up.

“Can I come in, Tommy?” He said.

But Tommy couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to do. Thankfully, Wilbur took some initiative.  
“I’m really worried about you, so I’m going to come in unless you say otherwise.”

The door opened cautiously and Wilbur slowly walked towards him.

“Jesus, are you okay, Tommy?” Tommy could hear the worry in his voice and tried to speak up again.

“On my period,” Tommy winced when his voice cracked, sore from crying. Wilbur nodded, taking a moment before speaking. 

“Can you breathe with me, Tommy?” All of the sudden, Tommy had something to focus on. Something simple. He copied his breathing for a long while. The air felt breathable once again and Tommy let out an audible sigh, lying down.

“Thank you so much, Wilbur,” Tommy said, quietly. “Don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t showed up. Probably would’ve passed out and woken up covered in more blood.”

Wilbur nodded, “I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks. They’re never pretty and always terrifying. If you ever feel one coming on please call me as soon as possible.” He paused before moving on. “Do you think you have enough energy to shower?” Tommy shook his head. “You look like you’re about to pass out. You can go to sleep, and I’ll help you wash your things out in the morning.” With a sight of relief, Tommy took it upon himself to go ahead and wash himself off with a rag and change his clothes quickly.   
—-  
After two hours, Tommy determined his nap was over. He left his room to a pleasant house. Wilbur was making hot chocolate and had hot, microwaved ramen out on the table. Wilbur mentioned he had started to wash the stained clothes and cleaned the bathroom. This prompted Tommy to give Wilbur a big. Because he was grateful, but also because he wanted comfort. It sucked, but it was all part of his period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading.
> 
> This is short, like me ):


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG WARNING: This entire things is just a vent I wrote, directly after an epIsoDe. So yea, suicidal thoughts and the vibe  
> be careful y'all. I love u all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its also really short, forgive me, i'm working on an actual story (2 in fact) so i've been busy, and haven't tried to elongate these

Wilbur was shaking, all the way down to his core. He sat in the room. He was so close to the button, he could almost smell the dreaded L’manberg burning. He hesitated though. There was something holding him back. But he’d put countless hours into setting up the TNT, and it could all be ruined if he didn’t detonate it soon.

DO IT NOW!

Don’t be a fucking coward. You know L’manberg can’t be fixed. There is no hope left for that horrible place, Wilbur’s head pounded against his skull. The best thing you can do is blow it up.

All your friends are lying to you. None of them are honest.

And, Tommy? He’s so young and naive. He would trust that Tubbo kid to the moon and back, and one day, it would cost him his life. Wilbur knew it, for certain.

No one agreed with his plan. That was fine. None of them were in his position, none of them understood. That wasn’t their fault, no, their faults stemmed from their dishonesty. 

The only realistic way for L’manberg to reach its peak was for it to burn to the ground. It would never rise from the ashes like a Phoenix. No, no. It would get exactly what it deserves. If it deserved better, Wilbur wouldn’t be in a cave he carved out himself, with the words of their anthem scratched into the wall like a wild animal had left them there. There wouldn’t be a button that would get rid of it all, right? 

He walked up to the wall. His fingers traced the wood of the button, feeling strange. He didn’t feel excited, or even happy. He wasn’t sad, just confused. His eyes watered, he was so confused. He tried to regulate his breathing, he didn’t. But something made him gasp a little. Text popped up on his screen.

Oi big w whree r u

Wilbur dropped his hand and fell. He scurried away from the button, like a scared animal, not a wild one. He felt as if he’d been jolted awake. 

He knew now. He didn’t want to blow up L’manberg. He didn’t.

He cared so much about it. Maybe it was more his friends he cared for. Tommy was like his little brother. Tubbo was so kind and sweet. Niki was one of his best friends. He had things to lose. Betrayal was still on his mind though. Maybe just cross that bridge when you get to it, he thought. In a weird sense, the weight of the nation left his shoulders for a moment, and he felt so much better.

big man???  
coming, give me a minute

Wilbur smiled to himself. He was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head empty, only Long time friends (spooky mix)- the living tombstone. Not exactly the vibe, but i just started listening to it today, and i can't stop listening to it


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory wing fic  
> Everyone's doing tommy-centric now and im sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me omw to write body horror based off a scene that scared me in my childhood: that’s just writing I guess *shrugs*
> 
> Also in this au, the wings start off as mostly bone and grow feathers slowly. I don’t know enough about animal or human anatomy and that is clear, so I said fuck it.
> 
> Important warning: Lots of blood, seriously!

Wilbur felt pain in his back bones. His wings ached, feeling like they wanted to burst out of his body. And they did.

He was a late bloomer when it came to getting wings. Even his little brother already had wings, and he was much younger. The brothers inherited them from their dad, Philza. Him, Tommy, and Techno were his sons. And his brothers already all had their wings.

When Wilbur had worries about his wings, Phil had nervously told Wil he didn’t think they could find a doctor for that. They were one of the only winged families left in the world, after all. They had been hunted in the old times. Things had changed, but it could only be fixed slowly and steadily. 

Philza said he suspected it was like losing teeth late in your childhood, slightly painful, but no more than losing them at the correct time. Now, Wil had found that the negative effects of his wings staying in, were much worse. His skin stretched under his fingers and his bones cracked and molded. 

He thought about calling out, but his family was out. Tommy and Techno were at their individual friends’ houses. Phil was at work. He was completely and utterly alone at the moment.

The bones have a mind of their own, looking for an escape. They had started growing too. There wasn’t more room left. He gripped at it and clawed slightly, willing it to make its way out. He cringed. He could feel the exact shape of the bone, as his flesh was pushed violently against his skin. The bones were likely looking for the thinnest skin, but Wilbur had other worries.

The wings were growing too large to fit out a small slit, like Tommy’s had. In truth, he’d always known his wings were a little larger than his brother’s, even while they were still in his body. Tommy would’ve complained about it, if his wings were the same size as Wil’s. However, he didn’t want to spook Philza too much, so he never bothered to mention it. 

Before Wilbur knew it, the bones were pressing harder than before. Hard enough to break skin, apparently. Wil cried out in pain, and tears started falling. His fingers, still feeling his back, were now covered in droplets of his blood. There was a small nub of the bone sticking out of the wound, that was now releasing blood. He could just feel the tip of it though.

Wil traced the edge of the wound carefully, before rounding back to the part that was on the verge of ripping apart. He slipped a towel into his mouth, getting ready to stifle his scream, and delicately placed his fingers on each of the holes. He used his fingers to slowly spread apart the skin, while simultaneously screaming bloody-murder into his towel. He just wanted it over with. Soon, the scar was twice as large as before, and his fingers warmed, as the blood flowed steadily and rapidly onto them. The cuts stung, like they were burns, crossing his back. 

Wilbur let out a loud yell into the towel, and his voice choked when he pushed harder, attempting to let the cursed wings out.

He began to feel light-headed, and the world became bright-red and blurry. His fingers grasped for something, instinctually, but they instead pushed into burning cuts. The bones were pushed back into his back, and touched his insides. The fingers immediately retreated and Wil pulled them to wipe away his wet face. 

“Fuck,” he whisper. Streaks of rosey fluid raced down his face, only leaving more tears behind. 

The ends of the wing had moved around his hip bone and he held back vomit. 

The wings didn’t move.

Wilbur’s breath quickened. The wings had stopped growing. He moved his hands cautiously to the terrifying slits, once again getting covered in blood. Two of his fingers from each hand shakily made their way around the bones of the wings, and pried them. He flexes his back hard, encouraging the bare wings to move back to the wounds.

He once again began pushing on the disgusting holes, drowning his world out. The ceiling was a nice focusing point. In fact, one of the light bulbs needed to be replaced, he noticed. While Wil distanced himself, the wound grew. He pushed more harshly, the less attention he paid. Soon, they were half way down his back. The wings were already folded, so it could’ve been worse, much worse. His brain returned, and he let out a scream of pain, dropping the towel. His back arched, and he leaned in on himself. The bones moved, pushing as Wil curled in on himself. The room in his back lessened, when he covered his face with his soft sweatpants.

Suddenly, the bones were able to tear themselves out, only making the scar longer. He let out a hard scream, feeling free of the weight. Instead, they tore on his back bones that they were attached to. It was something he was completely unused to.

His eyes pierced the floor, unable to move. A pool of gleaming blood grew, as the dreaded stuff dripped down his back at an excruciating pace. He didn’t want to move. Changing his position would mean shifting his whole body, that his featherless wings were now a part of. 

Minutes, maybe hours pass. Even with an old clock ticking in the bathroom, he didn’t know. His head pulsed with pure pain. It constantly felt like he was so close to being released from the agony, but he never was.

When he did move, it was no mistake. It felt like flexing an arm, when he moved them. They were interconnected, unlike hands. What happened to one, happened to the other. He let out a little smile, filling with euphoria, without the pain of something stronger than him trying to tear him apart from the inside out. It was nice, for a brief moment.

When he made his way to his feet, he fell to his knees again, kneeling. His legs were drenched. His head spun. He was looking at liters of liquid that were supposed to be inside of him. It felt so upside-down, so wrong. He couldn’t think straight. There was too much, just too much. Too much light, too much pain, too much blood. There was, however, a severe lack of blood in his body. 

Wilbur, in that moment, staring at the floor once again, felt himself drift. His consciousness slowly changed. It tore from his body. Wil collapsed, helpless.

Wil’s wings were not freeing, as he’d been told. They were grounding, and stiff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been slacking. I've been working on like, an actual series, and I must get it perfect before I release it. I wrote the original copy (4 chapters worth) all in one night, so there's a lot to fix. Thankfully I have thanksgiving week off from school, so I'll be letting it out into the world soon enough. I'll also continue the drabbles of course
> 
> Yes, it will be Wilbur-centric.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! you should do a tommy coming out one shot!! just a suggestion!! :)- moog
> 
> I already did one for him coming out to Will and Tubbo, so I did one for his stream this time. Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> First request, feelin’ good fucker <3 I will be talking about transphobia in the fandom, even though I’ve literally been fortunate enough to have never actually seen it here. Also, I’m not basing the shitty character off anyone, I just like having someone to shit on the entire story. Watch me over use the word shit for over 700 words

One hour was left until the stream, Tommy thought. He bounced up and down on his heels impatiently, checking his phone clock repeatedly. Recently he’d been feeling a bit bold. He didn’t ever plan to come out to his audience before now, but some shit went down on twitter and twitch recently, and he felt the need to guilt trip some of his audience members.

So, as he does, Tommy tweeted. Something simple, he thought. Discussing serious big man business was the name of the stream. It fit his brand, but would also be considered serious, he hoped. 

Outside his bedroom window, a bird chirped outside and a car honked somewhere in the distance. It was peaceful in that moment, but his gut instinct seemed to want to enact his fight-or-flight response. He cracked open a good, old coke can, and began sipping it. It wouldn’t really fit the stream’s vibe, and he needed it right at that moment, like a cat to tuna fish.

He took a moment to surf twitter. Various guesses circulated, but most assumed it was about the new streamer, who’d turned out to be kind of shitty. Tommy wasn’t too shook by it or anything, he’d had experience with people close to him turning out to be pretty transphobic. Not a very pog thing to do, he said. However, some of the fans still thought the person was perfectly fine, and others were trying to bully the person off the internet. He wondered if he was doing the right thing. Cancel culture was extreme, and not great most of the time. They could simply not be educated or just were raised to think that way, and never gave it a second though.

But he did decide he was doing the right thing in the end. The streamer has said some really terrible things to his young impressionable audience, some of which were questioning their identity, or already trans/nonbinary, and deeply hurt by them. He would, of course, tell his audience not to dox them, he knew his fans could be intense.

Another half hour passed, and Tommy spun around in his chair one time, before throwing on his classic headphones and turning on the stream. He gave everyone a quick hello, so he could head on to the important stuff. 

“Why isn’t the music on? Well, guys, I’ve got something important to talk about, and the music isn’t really needed for it. I hope you all don’t mind too much,” Tommy said, taking a breath.

“As a lot… and I mean a lot of you, have guessed, I wanted to discuss what happened with [streamer name],” he paused a moment. He considered the vibe of his stream, he needed to be serious, but didn’t want people clicking off. “I wasn’t kidding when I said this was a serious stream. I’m going to take this a little slow, I don’t want to screw anything up.”  
The chat was being nice, while adding in a bit of humor, and of course, farming some pogs, as usual. A few shot some of the lgbtq+ hearts in chat and he gave a small internal smile.

“I’ll explain the situation real quick, everyone. Recently, [streamer name], another popular streamer, has said some horrendous shit. Some transphobic shit, in fact. I wanted to make it official that I don’t support him anymore. But this doesn’t mean you guys should dox him. No, no. Don’t stoop to his level, guys.”

Plenty of people agreed in chat.

“Being transphobic isn't pog at all, you guys,” he said with a laugh. 

As the chat cooled down, he decided, fuck it, coming out time. “After all this, I still have serious shit to get through, can you believe that? I can’t,” he tried to keep his smile and excitement. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, after this, we’ll farm more primes and play the Craft!”

“I’ve been sitting on this for a while,” Tommy rubs his the area above his lips, right where facial hair would grow. “But I just want to get it over with, and get to gaming.” His chat flares up a bit, mostly supportive, others curious, some trying to lighten the mood. “I’d like to say that I’m trans. Big announcement, I know, I know, but that’s really all I have to say.” 

He releases a big breath, and glances to the chat. It’s being spammed with those little hands holding the different lgbtq+ flags, but just the ones with the trans flag.

“Thank you, thank you everyone! Now let's get to building. Shall we actually look for that marble, or shall we do some thievery?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make a discord for fun
> 
> Hopefully this link works:  
> https://discord.gg/pxvhfnFdFR
> 
> Also, hope you all did enjoy the story


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the Chapter 4 (wing au) because you all liked it and users OnlyCommenting and AllyBrooke requested a part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attack warning, because seeing your brother covered in blood and possibly dead is very scary! You all want comfort, but no! Just kidding, there’s comfort, but it starts like 1000 words in. Sorry :\

The clock remained on the wall, it ticked uninterrupted. The sky outside had ripped open, and rain beat the roof of the house. The house lay in silence, before Tommy burst in.

He was the first home, Techno and Phil were still doing their own thing. He checked the time. Three thirty, his phone displayed, streaming bright light into his face. He figured he’d get some homework done. He grumbled to himself, but he really wanted to avoid bad grades, for fear of being grounded.

The house was sizable, so all the boys had their own room. Will’s light was off, perhaps taking a nap, or in the bathroom. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Will not to greet Tommy. With how much he uses his headphones, Will might not have even noticed, Tommy thought.

Tommy worked on his own shit, headphones in, drinking some coke. After quite some time, maybe a half-hour, he took a trip to the bathroom. He frowned at Will’s light, which remained off. He knocked on the bathroom door, and twisted when no one responded. He frowned upon discovering it was locked.

“Will, can you get out of there? I really need to pee,” Tommy said.

He twisted again with no response. If Will was going to be a nuisance, so was Tommy.

Ya’ see, when the boy were younger, they locked themselves out of their own rooms, cause they were dumb children. Phil had to pick the lock with one of those metal hair things, and Tommy had observed, intrigued. 

He made his way to the linen closet, where they basically stored extra toiletries, and grabbed the wire-y object. With as much grace as a teen boy could have, he made his way to the knob, and started moving the thing around in the lock hole.

After a minute or so of uncomfortable silence, the door knob clicked. However, Tommy hesitated, hand hovering over it. He’d certainly been loud enough to hear. Perhaps Wilbur or Techno had accidentally locked the door, and not noticed, he rationalized.

He cautiously opened the door, before freezing in terror. There his brother was, curled up on the floor, surrounded by a circle of deep red blood. There was enough blood to make Tommy feel like throwing up just looking at it. The man in the center was still, making the scene look like some sort of fucked-up painting.

Out from Will’s back grew bones, like wings. They were wings, his wings, Tommy thought to himself. Tommy’s hands were shaking and his head was reeling. It was terrifying, but he almost couldn’t peel away his eyes. He closed his eyes, and took a large breath in. Phil would know what to do.

His hand moved to grab his phone from his back pocket and he opened his eyes to open his contacts list. His eyes flicked back and forth, as the phone buzzed. It, thankfully, didn’t take long for Phil to pick up. 

“Hey, Tommy,” he said, clearly hesitant. It wasn’t often his sons called him at work, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

“Phil,” Tommy said, cringing when his voice cracked. “Will- Will’s all fuckin’ bloody, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright, Tommy,” Phil’s voice became completely serious and protective. “I’m heading home, keep telling me what’s happening, if you can.”

“Well, he’s got his wings, but he’s like, he’s passed out,” Tommy said in response, struggling to wipe his tears away. “It’s scary, Phil! God!”  
“Tommy, I’m going to need you to do something real’ brave for me. Can you check Will’s pulse for me?” His breathing quickened. He hadn’t even thought about Will being dead, but, fuck, what if he was? He’d lost so much blood, and was so still. “Breath in Tommy. One, two three. Breath out, one two three. Can you?”

“Yeah Dad, I can, just give me a second,” Tommy spoke slowly. He moved his foot so he could feel Will’s wrist without falling on top of him. His sock was immediately drenched in blood and he forced himself to focus on his breathing again. “Fuck.”

“He’s okay, Dad. Will’s okay.” Tommy let out a real breath. “What can I do, Dad?” His feet moved back, and he shivered in disgust after remembering his sock. 

“Why don’t you grab the first aid kit from the linen closet, okay? I’ll be home soon, I promise.” The sudden silence was deafening, besides that damned clock. Tommy moved his way to the closet and his eyes darted around. ”Third shelf down, to the right, I believe. Do you see it, Tommy?”

“Mhm,” was all that made it through the phone.

“I’m almost to the neighborhood. You don’t have to go back in there, Tommy. Just breath, okay?”

Tommy sat down against the wall, covering his face as he cried. He thought Phil was saying something, but wasn’t quite sure. He choked on his own breath, and his breathing picked up again. The bathroom door was only open a crack now. Perhaps he’d swung it slightly when he left it. The blood had creeped underneath the door, he noticed, just slightly. His sight was blurred with his tears, so he just closed them.

The door did open, eventually, but it felt like an eternity. Phil’s steps thundered up the stairs, in sharp contrast with the quiet moments before. Strong arm’s held Tommy’s shoulder’s, then wrapped around his whole body.

“Tomster, I have to go see Will, are you okay by yourself?” Tommy nodded, which made him feel nauseous. Phil kissed Tommy on the top of his head, and pulled away. 

Now it was Phil’s turn to look. He pushed the door open, cautiously, with one hand. His son lay before him, as Tommy had described it. Granted, it wasn’t a surprise, but it took a moment to move. He took note of Will’s whole body, trying to assess the situation. 

Large dark scars snaked down his body. The skin beneath them was covered in dried blood that made its way down the rest of his body. His wings were almost as big as Phil’s, if not the same size. They were skinner, and irregular looking. It wasn’t uncommon for wings to look different, but he couldn’t not notice it at the time.

Phil knet down, and grabbed Will’s wrist himself, confirming what Tommy had said earlier. He contemplated what to do next very carefully. He couldn’t roll Will over, that would hurt his newly grown in wings. Waking him up would only make the situation more chaotic, and Phil didn’t think he could handle that. He’d have to use the first aid kit while Will was sleeping. 

Getting normal doctors involved would likely make things worse. He’d have to explain what he knew about wing growth, as most doctors weren’t trained in that area. There was also the possibility of the doctor damaging the wings, or even Will’ entire body. He’d have to stitch it up himself, he released, grimacing. 

He grabbed a nearby towel on the floor, before realizing it was used and getting one from a drawer. He didn’t want the wound to get infected, obviously. He lightly rubbed Will’s back after wetting the towel. The water dripped down, cleaning the area around the scar. As soon as it looked safe to work with, Phil drew the needle and thread from the kit. Perhaps he should wake Wilbur up.

He rubbed Will’s head and moved closer to Will. “Will,” he whispered. A low groan came out of the boy, who didn’t move a muscle. “I have to stitch your wounds. It's going to hurt a little, but it’ll feel better once I’m done.” Will’s eyebrows scrunched together, but otherwise didn’t say anything.

The process was excruciating. In reality, it didn’t take that long. Phil had done it before, but it was different when it was your son, he thought. He left room for muscle to grow around the wings bone, and moved back for a moment.

Will started to push his hands under himself to get up, and Phil rushed to his side. He helped him up, making sure he didn’t crash his wings into the wall.

Tommy had moved right outside the door and rushed to hug his brother. Will let out a surprised “oof,” and relaxed in Tommy’s embrace. Phil joined, arms outstretched. 

Of course, the final family member could not miss the hug. Techno, who’d snuck in, likely trying to ignore possible human interaction, observed for a moment. After taking in his brother’s new wings and the giant puddle of blood on the bathroom floor, he joined the hug, deeming it appropriate.

They stood there for a good moment in complete silence, letting the world around them move. The next day would be better, far better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended abruptly, but I didn’t know exactly what to add.  
> Big announcement, I will be putting this work on hold for a while. I’m putting out a series right now, and I’m cleaning up another, that I’m very proud of, but scared to put out into the world, and getting ready to release it. I’ve also already got plans for a oneshot ‘series’ but it will have more of a theme, one that I really like writing about. I’m so thankful you’ve all shown your appreciation for this, I honestly couldn’t be more grateful! Have an excellent day, and until we meet again! <3


	7. Requesting Requests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry if you really wanted a story ):

They are currently on pause! If you did request one, thank you so much

I’ve hit quite the writing block recently and I figured I could just put out a ‘requests?’ thing

Things I love to write: Wilbur or Tommy centric, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/No comfort, angst in general, trans AUs, etc

They don’t have to be one of these, just wanted to give a reference for you all

Things I WON'T write: sexual stuff, ship stuff, or anything to do with eds 

Half ideas?: song fics 👀, trans Wilbur, fantasy AU, and other lgbtq+ AUs

You know me, you've made it to chapter 7, thanks. :D I've got literally no boundaries on how much angst I can put in a story. Feed me with your sadness, kids


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur really needs to start taking care of himself, just like the author. *points to self, after writing this at three a.m.*
> 
> Edit: Holy shit, I forgot to add the prompt I made this from! So sorry 0_0
> 
> .maybe something where while streaming with the rest of sbi wil passes out from lack of sleep and food and the others rush over to help/take care of him ect (they all decently close by maybe cause of a vist or something)- J
> 
> Thanks for the inspiration, I hope you liked it (:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for sending prompts and shit! My apologies for not responding to most of them for a while, and then not writing anything. I might have had a tiny mental breakdown, but it’s all good now 😎✌️.

Will felt exhausted. His whole body was heavy and his head pounded, like it was his heart in his head, not his brain. Yet, there he was sitting in front of his computer, about to stream for another hour or two. The light from his computer burned into his eyes, and he sat, unmoving, not exactly processing what was on the screen for a solid five minutes. Eventually, he moved his hand to his mouse and checked the time. He wasn’t late yet, technically. He sat back after getting it set up and saw the screen displaying the message, ‘stream starting soon’. 

It would still be a good ten minutes, at least, before the rest of Sleepy Boys Inc. would sign in so he could take his time.

He blinked rapidly, trying to stop himself from falling asleep. His chat rolled by, and his eyes briefly scanned over it. He figured he would start and get it over with.

He was zoning out practically the whole time. On occasion, if one of the SBI members (Tommy) yelled, his attention would whip into shape following a whole minute or two. Most of the time, he was just reminded of his headache when he was able to focus. He should’ve taken Advil before starting the steam.

They were filming one of the ‘100 players’ streams, so the content really made itself. The rest of SBI did a good job of leading Wilbur. They were taking charge of this stream, and dear god was Wilbur thankful.

At one point, he could hear a mumble of someone asking something along the lines of ‘are you okay, Wilbur?” It took a second for the words to process, but he responded with a simple, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” This didn’t seem to satisfy the speaker, who he thought might be Tommy. Wilbur rapidly blinked his eyes again, noticing his eyes were closing on their own yet again.

A message blinked on his phone. It was from Techno.

T- If you need to stop streaming that’s fine

Not a moment later, he got a similar one from Philza.

He moved to switch his phone off, and watched his hand shiver slightly. His attention returned to the screen, trying his best to push through it. 

Once again, the world began to fade from his sight, his eyes softly closing. This time, he lacked the awareness to open them up again. All of his senses stopped and he slumped in his chair. The last thing he saw was the bright light of his computer, before everything around him closed and plunged into nothing.

——-

And suddenly, nothing returned to something. It was like something was always something, and he, instead, was nothing, for a while. As he opened his eyes, he took in the world around him, which was, at the current moment, just a room. 

He was still in his office, but he was on his couch, not sitting in his chair. His barely-used, decorative blanket had been laid across him, feet to shoulders. After a quick assessment, he determined that there were in fact people in the office. 

Tommy twisted in Will’s wheelie chair, clearly impatient. Techno stood in the corner, trying to look unbothered. Anyone else would think he was bored, but SBI knew better. Meanwhile, Phil sat right next to him, on the floor.

Upon noticing Wilbur’s eyes had opened, Philza touched the top of Wilbur’s head and pulled him into his body. Will’s hands were curled up in the blanket, and he didn’t feel like moving yet, so he didn’t. Instead, he concentrated on the feeling of Philza’s hands on his head, and being tucked in, almost, to the body of the kind man.

After a moment, he felt more. A smaller body, presumably Tommy’s, laid on top of him. Tommy’s head sat on Wilbur’s chest, and his hands moved under and around him. They were like a snake, but nice and comforting. Like a hug.

Lastly, Techno joined. Will wasn’t too surprised his contact was minimal. He had always had an aversion to touch, and SBI respected that. 

His hand wrapped around Wilbur’s. Will realized his hands had separated from the blanket, and were sitting at his sides now. 

His body was covered in the warmth of his little family. He knew they’d talk about this later, but for now, he just relaxed, taking in what he could feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact I’m making canon in all my stories: Tommy can pick all locks with a hair thing, as first displayed in chapter 4. Also I refuse to believe Tommy is 6’3, so he’s canonically shorter bc it’s my fic and I can do what I want
> 
> As for future storys, I'm working on onlydoingthistocomment's ghostbur story next and then for trans A.U.s, Anonymouswombat's or KadeAK (zacixn)'s depending on how sad I am when I decide to write it. Either way, both fics will be written eventually. I've just been taking a while, my motivation is down, and it's exam week. Although, I never study, so I can just write instead!!!!!


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghostbur having a panic attack/mental breakdown after trying to remember things? I remember on stream were he told Tommy that he tried to gain his memories back but then something happened and he didn't know what happened so maybe he had a breakdown? Idk i just want Ghostbur angst- onlydoingthistocomment
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful prompt! <3 I hope it lives up to your expectations

A ghost watched from a distance. A ghost who could not remember much. The kid he was watching was named Tommy, and they had been friends before he had died. Now, the kid had been exiled from his own kingdom, their kingdom, Ghostbur thought.

He could remember, he had made that place, with Tommy. There was a national anthem, too, in a little book. People always wrote such nice and peaceful things in books, so he started collecting them. Some made him laugh, or ponder, or taught him things he’d forgotten.

He thought of his library back in L’manberg. He’d had to leave behind his potions and books, but Tommy was more important to him than his home. He had the most memories with Tommy, the greatest ones always included him, in fact. It took a while, but Tommy had eventually grown close to Ghostbur and seemed to trust him.

People didn’t like Tommy now, too. His little friend, Tubbo, had thrown him out. Wilbur felt bad, he could remember the two of them. They were best friends for so long. Wilbur could remember the bench, where they’d listen to Tommy’s discs after a hard day.

Wilbur was glad to remember the happy things. He didn’t want to know the bad things. Why would he?

But, the glances, he could see people acting strange. They would peak at him, for a moment, or flinch when he spoke too loudly. His son, Fundy, still seemed to be mad at him. He was mad at Wilbur for not owning up to his mistakes.

But, he wasn’t Wilbur, he was Ghostbur. He understood it was a frustrating concept. Now, he thought about the man. He thought of the story Tommy had told him, of November 16th. Something, some small part of his brain reached further in his memory, trying to grasp something slightly out of reach.

He pressed his eyes closed. There was the election, but what happened after? His mind tried pushing forward. The votes were being counted. He laughed a little when he remembered Fundy committing voter fraud. It was hard to remember beyond that. 

He did remember them getting the majority vote, but that didn’t- They still lost. Tommy had said they’d lost. How could they lose with the majority vote?

Ghostbur rubbed his head a little. He shrugged it off and went to get water. Dehydration was usually the cause of headaches, after all.

Who was at the election? Well, he knew POG 2020, obviously. He was the presidential candidate, how could he forget? Then Coconut 2020, with Fundy and Niki. He could go for some of Niki’s fresh pastries at the moment, but he was quite a ways away. Was the bakery still there? Ghostbur hoped it was.

Then there was SWAG 2020. How could he forget his opponents, and his certainty he would beat them? How could they have lost? Ghostbur bit his pale fingernails. He knew it was a bad habit, but it was hard to regulate when he was this frustrated. He took a swig of his aforementioned water and held his head in his hands, feeling overwhelmed.

There it was again, the feeling he was missing something. Was there another candidate he had forgotten? Considering they were more popular than POG 2020, how could he possibly completely forget them?

He took another drink, and stood up to pace a small area of grass. He tried remembering forwards instead, but he came up empty. Anytime past the election wasn’t even a blur. He seriously had no idea what happened.

It was strange to pace when his feet didn’t even touch the ground. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it had been before he died.

Technically, he did remember something. He remembered being stabbed by Philza, his own father. Why would he do that? Philza was so nice to him. Why did he remember that, amongst all the beautiful, wonderful memories?

The pounding in his head was getting more noticeable. His water cup was already empty.

“Fuck!” Ghostbur didn’t mean to yell honestly. Maybe he did need sleep, it was like he was exhausted. He grabbed his forehead, his willpower wasn’t strong enough right now. He stood where he was, unsure of what to do. He just sunk into the ground, and gripped his head. 

His head folded into his legs, which were pulled together. A name struck him, Pogtopia. It only made him more frustrated. It was all he could think about. All he knew past the election. Had Tommy mentioned it before? It did feel like he was truly remembering it though. There was a connection between him and that place, but it was strained and heavy. He would describe it as unbearable. His shoulders cramped up, the pain running to his neck.

His hands, free from his head, shakily combed his hair. It was soothing, but not enough. His head was still flooded and overwhelmed. 

Pogtopia, Pogtopia, fuck.

Ghostbur couldn’t tell the time, the only indication more than a minute had passed was the shining of the sun, which was just setting. It had been several hours. He rubbed his eyes. He slowly lost his train of thought, settling into calmness once again. Off to see Tommy, I guess, Wilbur thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, now knowing that Ghostbur will just. Forget. Bad things that happen like with Friend dying even after Ghostbur died, I did that. Sorry :(


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok this is so dumb but ive had an idea for like tommy comes out as trans to wilbur and wilbur is like bro me too thats wack and happiness/bonding happens you dont have to take it but like... maybe?  
> -Anonymouswombat
> 
> Wonderful suggestion! I loved writing this <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m aware these are getting shorter, and I apologize. I’m also aware that I didn’t make a promise that all the chapters would be a thousand words, so that makes me feel better. Sorry updating has been getting worse, there's just shit going on (not to make anyone pity me or anything). Plus, I don’t have any real motivation for updating at the moment, so I’m just writing when I feel like it. Pretty much, this series is just more casual with no update schedule at all.
> 
> Also, this is not edited like, at all, so my apologies for any mistakes.

As soon as the taxi stopped, Tommy practically sprinted down the street. He couldn’t wait to see Wilbur. The sun was already high in the sky and the roads were bustling with cars. 

They were meeting up yet again, and because of schedules and shit, Tommy got there a day before the others. 

When he rang the doorbell outside the office, there was a small buzz. The buzz was one of the most annoying things he’d ever heard, and at that moment he felt bad for Wilbur. 

There was a little click a second later, and he could hear Wilbur. “Tommy?”

“Yeah, let me in bitch,” Tommy replied, a mix of anxious and excited. He leaned his balance back and forth on his feet and shuddered a bit when a chilly breeze made it way past him. 

Another buzz went off. “Come on in, child,” Oh you prick, Tommy thought, but didn’t speak to the button’s speaker again. It was too cold outside to wait.

After about a minute, he’d made it up to the room. Of course, he chose to do the funniest thing he could think of, which, in normal Tommy behavior, also meant the most annoying. This meant repeated knock on the door, without stopping.

The door burst open. “For fuck sakes, Tommy!” Wilbur rolled his eyes, but wasn’t too pissed. He pushed his way into the room, taking in the new place. Since leaving his old office, Wilbur had actually gotten a soundproof workspace. Right now, it happened to be decorated with minimal Christmas supplies. A miniature tree sat in the corner, and there were some multicolored lights that were sitting in the corner as well.

“Are you going to set those up?” Tommy gestured vaguely towards the decor. Wilbur laughed.

“Maybe. I’ve never been huge about Christmas though. If I did, it would be to make my setup look better,” Wilbur said. “How crazy is your family about Christmas?”

“Oh, we love it. We had to limit the amount of ornaments on the tree because it wasn’t big enough for all of them.”

“Yeah, no. My tree is pretty pathetic this year.” The two talked about Christmas nonsense for a while.

“What’s on your Christmas list?” Tommy glanced at Wilbur.

“I don’t know. I just let people get me gift cards most of the time. What about you?”

Tommy thought for a moment. He could go for a real binder. Normally, he would get video games from his friends, or clothes from his parents, but he already asked for that stuff already or bought it himself. He wouldn’t want to get repeat presents. There was nothing to be nervous about, he knew, but coming out was always hard.

Technically, his parents didn’t even know he binded. They just let him cut his hair, and he never asked for anything more. It was hard to notice anything on camera, and in real life, he could just wear a hoodie and a weird bra combination, like he was now.

He paused for a moment, and Wilbur knew something was off.

“What, dude? It’s okay if you didn’t have anything in mind.” There it was, a way out. Wilbur had made it so easy for him. On the other hand, Tommy really wanted a binder.

“Well, uh,” Tommy paused. “There was something,” he hesitated, and his hand started playing with his coat zipper. “Here, I’ll pull it up for you.” He whipped out his phone from his pocket and opened the bookmark that may or may not have been saved for the past few months. “By the way, I’m trans.” It honestly just slipped out. His fingers clutched onto the zipper and his eyes were glued to his phone.

“Oh, okay.” Tommy held his breath. “Good choice with gc2b They’re my favorites, personally,” Wilbur said smiling. It was more of a smirk, truly.

“You are too? Trans?” Tommy released his breath and finally looked back at his friend.

“Yup, child.”

“Hey! Don’t call me that!”

“Okay, okay,” Wilbur laughed. “So yeah, I’d be fine getting this for you, but if you want it, I sort of need your size, if you're okay with that.”

“Yeah, shit, sure,” Tommy said, still laughing in disbelief. “It’s weird. Is it okay that it feels weird?”

“What, to meet another trans guy?” Tommy nodded. “I’ve heard it’s just, like, validating, like you’re not the only one, kind of thing.” 

“That makes sense.” Tommy hugged Wilbur impulsively. Wilbur chuckled before wrapping his own arms around Tommy. 

“Oh, you’re cold. You want me to turn the heater up?” Tommy nodded again.

He grinned to himself. It really was nice to see another trans person, especially one who you already looked up to. The two went out for hot chocolate, to window shop, and then insulted overpriced clothing they saw in expensive shops. Overall, it was the best winter afternoon with his friend he could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it, especially you anonymouswombat!


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you like writing trans wilbur?? maybe mans kept it a secret from the rest of the SBI family and when they eventually find out he’s scared of being disowned? your call :]- KadeAK (zacixn)
> 
> I took a whirl, and this is what I got

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain when I can't think of a way for SBI to all see each other in person and shit: mmmmmmmm youtube hype house?????? That works i guess
> 
> Also, yes, i guess Phil’s wife can come too.🙄 /j Also, I will be referring to her as Mrs. Minecraft, because I want to
> 
> TW/CW: This fic is literally about trans!wilbur having a wildly heavy period and being outed because of it, so if that triggers you beware. (Also, yes, this some of this fic is from experience because I have a seriously bad period)

Wilbur’s back ached from carrying his suitcases and bags into his new room from the car. The whole time he was just regretting the choice not to get the suitcases with the little wheels at the bottom that looked so easy to pull. He was sitting in his gamer chair, spinning around in his office, just listening to music, not planning to do anything for the rest of the day.

At first, he was like anyone else, a little hesitant. The whole idea of getting a house and living together with Sleepy Bois Inc. was odd, at least from an outsider’s point of view. He wouldn’t describe it as strange though. He knew it would be good for his job, with how well videos with the other guys did, citing Tommy’s vlog as a prominent example. Not to forget, he did consider them as close as family, so he was hesitant for a different reason. 

Though he had taken the day off, Tommy hadn’t. Wilbur could hear him shouting from across the apartment, likely in his own office, stream Minecraft or something. This was one of those times when he was extra grateful for the big ol’ paycheck youtube made him. The apartment was big enough for everyone to get their own office, besides Mrs. Minecraft, who probably found the place too loud to work anyway.

It had a combination of a living room and kitchen, which Wilbur liked. He stayed in his room most of the time anyway, so to him, it was wasting less space. He liked his personal space, like an angry teenager. He hoped the rest had the manners to knock before entering, though he doubted it. Thankfully, once again, like a teenager, he was grateful for the locks that came with the doors. 

The biggest obstacle would be grabbing his own groceries on his own schedule. Technoblade was not only reportedly nocturnal, but also a hermit, which would mean he would barely ever have the house to himself. Tommy seemed like he went out and about often enough, and Phil and his wife were fully functioning adults who left the house every once and a while, so no need to worry about them. 

The act of sneaking the ‘dreadful’ menstrual cycle supplies was one he hadn’t had to worry about until now, and one he considered before he got here. He’d managed to get a month or two worth of pads and tampons, but past that, not much. Heavy flow is a bitch, and also the reason he had to take ‘birth control’ pills. You know, so he didn’t bleed out, or become ghostly pale during his cycle like he did when he was little. At least one of his smaller bags had one of the big packs of the bulky overnight ones, so, yeah, he wore tampons, cause pads aren’t great for everyone, even though he had to stop himself from crying each time he put them in.

Also, the problem of washing sheets or underwear after bleeding on them, cause, say it with me, heavy flow is a bitch and you can’t wear tampons overnight. The list was endless, but what was the alternative? Talking about it? No way.

So, he spun, and continued spinning, until he fell asleep.

The next two weeks continued without a hitch. The first cycle went relatively well. He changed pads or tampons in his room instead of the bathroom, and emptied his own trash, even when someone else offered. It was gross but manageable. He didn’t get any of his clothes or his sheets dirty. He was a bit moodier, which was unavoidable when God gives you this curse, even if some people didn’t have it as bad, and it’s bad to generalize. Overall, everything went off without a hitch in the end.

But, soon enough, the second cycle came, sooner than he thought it would. He shared a bathroom with Techno, he was very cautious when he washed off his underwear. Afterward, he remembered the age-old solution of just hanging it to dry in his closet, where he rightfully assumed no one would spot it. He noticed it was one of those heaver cycles, but didn't bother changing his routine, because he may or may not be in denial about what was happening.

This, of course, ended the worst way possible. He woke up with his phone’s alarm and went to the bathroom, as usual, watching a stupid advert roll on his phone whilst popping his headphones in. The panic set in when he pulled down his clothes. Shit, he thought, at least I wore pants tonight. However, after examining his pants, he realized he’d bleed through them. Shit, he thought once again, but more scared now. He bit the ends of his fingernails and sat still for a moment, thinking of his options. Technoblade was most likely asleep and would be for a while, with that fucked up sleep schedule of his. Washing his underwear and pants would really not be a problem. It was the sheet that was the issue. If he had bled onto it, he’d have to use the washing machine, or he’d just use the sink, but he couldn’t dry it out in the closet. The space was big, but not that big. 

So he took the mortification of throwing it into the noisy fucker. At worst, they’d assume he pissed his bed or something and no one would ever ask him about it. The way things were going though, of course, the even worse than worst options happened. Phil popped in to talk.

“Will, it’s like six a.m. and some people are trying to sleep.”

“Well, at least I’m finally washing them,” Wilbur mumbled. It was true, he’d only washed them once since he’d gotten here. It wasn’t like sheets got gross or anything, so he always forgot. Phil, however, rolled his eyes.

“Why are you washing them?”

“I guess I can’t just do normal chores without having an ulterior motive,”

“That is right, mate. Now, tell me. What’s up with your sheets?”

Wilbur continued to whisper, rather than speak. “Well, uh.” He paused or hesitated. Maybe he stopped and glanced at Phil for a moment. Slowly, he leaned against the humming washer, subtly avoiding eye contact. Phil continued waiting for an answer.

He was picking at his fingers again, unsure of what to do. There was small fear festering in the back of his head. The thought that all the kids had when they’d kept something secret from their family. He wasn’t a kid, but he sure as hell felt like he’d done something wrong at that moment. He’d had those thoughts back when he was really little, still living with his birth family. He’d live in a tree, or something like that if he had nowhere else to go. Or, if he had the chance, he’d grab the wallet he’d been saving money in since fifth grade and buy a room at a motel for a while sorting out what to do. He still had it. It was glittery and pink. He wished he could remember to switch it to another wallet sometime, but he never really did. 

So, there he was, pondering a tacky picture of the beach like it was the Mona Lisa, instead of answering a question. The wallet was in his middle drawer. He didn’t even need it anymore, he had a credit card, and all that adult stuff, for God’s sake. It was his personal stuff that he was more worried about now. Could he grab it in time? What would he bring?  
He couldn’t tell how much time had passed outside his head. Not much, he assumed, because Phil didn’t say anything else. 

“I just noticed a stain. I figured, why not wash it?” It was an easy lie, and easy to accept. The words moved slowly, but swiftly through his teeth without a hitch. His hands graced the machine’s paint. He wished they’d all chipped in for a better one. Its paint was already rubbing off, the metal of it was starting to show. 

Phil nodded, accepting the answer, but almost begrudgingly. Wilbur figured he’d tipped Phil off to the fact something was off. His fingernail biting and moving away from Phil’s searching eyes had been more purposeful than he’d wanted.

Instead of wasting more of his time on what had obviously been a lie, Phil left Wilbur alone. Wilbur leaned up against the machine. He didn’t feel like thinking or doing much of anything. His fingers traced the design of the tiles on the floor. Dust and dirt collected on his skin and he rubbed it off onto his pants. 

His room really felt like his own at that point. He got changed and got ready to run out to grab backup supplies. He was throwing on his jacket when he heard Tommy complaining about having to go to college in a few hours. He didn’t think about it much on his run to the local drug store. He grabbed a snickers bar on the way back, cause why the fuck not?

He rushed through the house. The other members of the household didn’t really bother asking each other about the contents of random grocery bags, so that had been an easy check off the problems list. Of course, this day had to be the worst day possible.

“Wilbur,” a voice came from inside his room. “Do you have any spare socks in here?” It was clearly Tommy. Wilbur himself burst into the room.

“Tommy, you can’t just go into other people’s rooms without asking,” Wilbur said loudly, before looking at the kid and clutching the bag.

“What the fuck is this?” Wilbur winced when the blonde held up one of the pads. It couldn’t be one of the gender-neutral yellow ones, could it?

“Tommy, put that pack,” Wilbur said, pulling the kid back from the drawer and grabbing the pad from his hands. “Here’s a sock.” He slammed the drawer shut and pulled a box out from under the bed. Tommy reached out and took the pair Wilbur gave him, looking more put-off than confused.

“No need to get all bitchy about it,” Tommy said, laughing. Not exactly the best thing to say at that moment, even though he was just a kid.

“Get out,” Wilbur said, eyebrows narrowing. He didn’t want to be cold to the kid, really, he just wanted Tommy out of his room at that very second using any means necessary.

“Sorry, Wilbur,” Tommy groaned in annoyance and slammed the door behind him when he left.

Wilbur, now alone, grabbed one of his pillows off the floor that hadn’t been put back onto his bed since he took off his sheet, and screamed into it. He clutched into it like he’d die if he didn’t. His brain told them the awful things they so often did in this state. 

They know.

They know and they hate you now.

Maybe they know and they hate you and don’t say anything.

If not, they will figure it out. 

When they do, you’re gonna have to leave.

He sank to the ground and cried this time. He didn’t think his lungs could produce a scream at this point. His breaths were raspy and it was hard to even manage one. Instead, he held his breath. He could hold it for a while, but not long enough. Another pitiful sob broke through his mouth and he shook his head. He wished he could just stop. What if someone saw him like this? He’d look so fucking pathetic. 

He gradually moved onto his bed and took a small nap. It only lasted thirty minutes, but it was enough. Around his eyes, the nasty crust of his tears had dried around his eyes. His lungs expanded when he yawned, and he broke out into a cough. 

He laid back onto his bed after returning to his room. His phone buzzed. Fuck.

The bright light gave him an instant headache. A text message from Father Minecraft read, ‘Dinner with everyone tonight. No complaints or excuses.’

Wilbur groaned. It was really the last thing he wanted to deal with. If he were by himself, he would heat up a water bottle, because, of course, cramps had set in. They weren’t terrible, but honestly, he’d had an extremely overwhelming day, and he thought he deserved a longer nap. He still had a few hours to relax, but he thought he should start editing a video for youtube. 

And so, he went to the ‘family’ dinner slightly exhausted. Technoblade had offered to buy Chinese food so no one had to cook, and everyone happily agreed to the idea. Wilbur was mostly quiet the whole time, listening to the others talk about their days or weeks.

Tommy briefly brought up the sock moment and called him bitchy again. Wilbur gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes for show, but didn’t say anything. He was thankful Tommy only brought up his anger and not his mystery item. His lips were sealed most of the afternoon, his mouth only opening to eat his own fried rice. 

Both the laughter and everyone talking was giving him a nasty headache. The voices overlapped and mixed with the sound of busy traffic outside. The lights were a little too loud and the soup that Phil heated up in the microwave burned the roof of his mouth. He shifted in his seat, rubbing at his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Ah, I have a headache. I’m going to get some Advil.” Wilbur stood up from his seat and his heart dropped. What, about an hour or two had passed, with just them sitting there talking? Just an hour and a half. 

His seat was spotted with just a little blood, but it didn’t matter how much, only that it was there. There was some on his pants too. Might as well just throw out whatever underwear he happened to be wearing. But, that wasn’t the most prominent issue at the time. He bolted directly to his room without a glance at the other’s faces.

He wiped the already appearing tears off his face. He was fucking disgusting. He looked like it and he felt like it. He was sweaty, crying like a child, and covered in blood, so, not his best look.

He pressed the bottom of his palms into his closed eyes, focusing on the pressure. The world was closing in on him by the minute. Despite this, he was hyper-aware. He could hear someone coming up the stairs, rushing, at that. He thought it was Phil, judging by how loud the steps were, but he couldn’t be sure.

He didn’t want Phil to see him. He sat down and looked over at the door, listening to the footsteps come steadily closer. His breathing steadied, he wanted to be less loud. He didn’t want Phil to hear him crying. And then he heard Phil’s voice, it was quieter than he expected.

“Wilbur?” Wilbur didn’t respond. He knew if he did, his voice would crack. “Can I come in?” Wilbur’s hands fidgeted with the fabric on his pants and traced the seam running down the size of it.

He’d neglected to lock the door, and knew that when he scanned it carefully. “I’m going to come in.” And Wilbur wanted him to. He wanted someone to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay and that what was happening was completely normal, but it wasn’t. Instead of watching the doorknob turn helplessly, he pressed his face into his folded legs and closed his eyes.  
The other man was slow when entering the room. Arms cautiously wrapped around him.

“I told the other guys to wait downstairs, ‘cause I didn’t want to spook ya’,” Phil paused, letting the sentence settle. “I’m going to be honest. I don’t really know what to do.”

“This is fine,” Wilbur said. His voice did crack. His head pulled away, and he gripped Phil back. Phil in return rubbed his back in little circles with one hand and used the other to rub Wilbur’s head, stroking his hair. 

They stayed like that for an indiscernible amount of time. Wilbur's breathing slowed to a regular pace and he dropped his arms, and Phil followed suit. He couldn’t really meet Phil’s eyes yet, instead looked out a window to see the sun dipping below the horizon. The sky was a cascade of bright orange, blue, and a little bit of pink.

“Are you hurt, Will?” Wilbur shook his head glancing at Phil for just a moment, to see his face. It was still hard to talk.

“I’m just,” it was hard to phrase. There were so many words he could choose. “I was born with a shitty set of ovaries, that’s all.” A flock of geese made their way across the skyline, moving together in the shape of a “V”, off to annoy some people. Wilbur almost laughed.

There was a silence for a while. “I don’t-” there was another pause. Wilbur didn’t blame him, it was strange, this situation. It reminded him of his parents finding out. Hopefully, Phil was a little more accepting. Just a little more, that was all he could ask for. “Wilbur, are you trans?”

His thumb searched for something to feel, and his nail pushed into the indent of the seam he previously felt. He felt sick, more scared of disappointment this time than confrontation. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he managed. It sounded perfectly normal, despite his dry mouth and tired lungs.

“Well, that’s good. I thought you were dying from internal bleeding or something.” Wilbur laughed.

“You don’t think it’s weird, or gross or something?” Wilbur sniffed in some loose mucus he’d been too distracted to worry about.

“No way! Wilbur, nothing like that could ever change my opinion of you, much less the opinion of the other guys,” Phil responded enthusiastically. “They both love you like a brother, and you know I think of you as a son. Your body couldn’t change that.

“Thank you,” Wilbur mumbled. “You think I should tell the others now?” 

“You can do whatever you want. If you don’t want to, I can make up some phony excuse or something. It might less than believable, but-”

“No no,” Wilbur stopped him. “I want to.” He pulled himself up, and Phil patted him on the shoulder. The two made their way down the stairs into the kitchen. It was a little awkward when he realized he still had blood on his clothes, but he had a more important matter to deal with.

Both Technoblade and Tommy stood up, but Tommy made his way over to Wilbur, throwing Wilbur into a hug.

“I thought you were bleeding out, man! You can’t scare me like that,” The kid said, noisily. “What is up, big man?”

“Well, um,” Wilbur rubbed his eyes and looked to Phil, who was smiling supportively. “I’m, uh, trans, and this was actually me bleeding, because, like, periods exist.”

Tommy hesitated for a moment, thinking for a minute. “Periods, like the bloody stuff they talked about in biology?” Wilbur nodded. “Oh, wait, you're trans!” Tommy thought again for a moment, clearly pondering over what to say.”

Technoblade, who had been quiet per usual, piped up for once, with few words, also as usual. “Good to know. As you know, I’ll support you.” He also made his way over to Wilbur, granted in a more awkward fashion than Tommy, looking unsure of what to do.

“Yes,” Tommy agreed. “I too will support you, Wilbur!” Wilbur laughed at the way Tommy copied Techno. He knew the kid looked up to Techno and was glad. Although a little awkward in real life, Techno was a good guy. “You’ll always be the biggest man, Wilbur, no matter what!”

The three of them closed in on a little hug, even Techno, who was more hesitant. Family was nice, Wilbur thought to himself. He knew the other knew, without him having to say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got sad with Philza, so I made the boys a little more goofy. I hope that’s okay (:
> 
> This fic goes out to the fact the first time i realized i was trans. (this was when i put together a closet cosplay of c!wilbur during the villain!wilbur arch and felt what i believe to be gender euphoria for the first time? yeah...)


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i had a request idea and u dont have to do it ofc especialy if it trigers you or makes u uncomfortabe but maybe tommys streaming and people see his self harm scars so he has a panic attack and wilbur comforts him- Brooklynhunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also know there are already books with this plot, but I will still be writing my own version, because why not.
> 
> Obviously, big TRIGGER WARNING. DO NOT READ THIS IF IT WILL TRIGGER YOU.
> 
> Thank you for the request. Also, announcements about the these one shots at the end.

Tommy shifted in his chair absentmindedly. He spoke aimlessly and wandered around the pixelated world on his screen. He knew he was quieter than usual this stream, but he hoped people wouldn’t pry into it too much.

Wilbur had popped on half-way through, so he’d been entertaining the chat most of the time with his little quips. Not much was happening, and he was just collecting some resources and killing monsters. The viewers cared more about Wilbur’s voice than his strip mining, which he didn’t mind. He preferred it right now. 

He was just about to end his stream when his dog started scratching at the door. Oh, right, it was around her feeding time. Well, he thought to himself, the viewers could probably die to get the chance to see her again. So, he got up and opened his door without a second thought. He forgot though. He was wearing short sleeves, which typically wouldn’t be a problem. That is if he hadn’t gotten up and turned around. 

When he returned to his seat, he watched his chat fly by. He assumed it was because of the dog. They loved pets and stuff, so that was the obvious cause. And it mostly was. The scars weren’t exactly easy to see, and his arms had only been in view a millisecond. Wilbur hadn’t even noticed, too occupied with an exploding creeper than to look at Tommy’s dog. 

Tommy remembered though. It was sudden. Surely someone had seen it. Not just someone, maybe even a thousand or more people had spotted it. Maybe they were saying something about it in chat, and it was just flying by too fast to read. 

So Tommy ended the stream. He was natural about it, mentioning to Wilbur he should go feed both his dogs and then make some dinner for himself. He spoke faster than normal though, and his hand clenched together tightly. He sat in his chair for a good minute or two, temporarily forgetting his obligations. But he did remember. So, he fed his dogs, but past that, he couldn’t concentrate on anything other than his slip up. As soon as he got a notification on his phone, he cringed. The bed beneath him was comfortable. He would’ve liked to go to sleep, but his brain wouldn’t let him.

He flipped his phone around, then looked at the notification and sighed. It was just one of his friends on Twitter mentioning him randomly. Nothing to be afraid of. He laid back into bed, closing his eyes, wishing he was away. He didn’t have a frame of reference for where he wanted to be, just anywhere besides where he was. Maybe he just didn’t want to be himself. Just for that day. He’d probably like being someone else too much to go back though.

He was shit. Awful. Pathetic, emphasized by his crying. It was soft, not very manly, he thought. Clouds had gathered outside his window, but the curtains were closed. His fingers traced the lines on his arms. It was hard to conceptualize. Some nights just got to be too much, this would be a two nighter, he supposed. 

He was hungry but too tired to get out of bed. Maybe he was too scared. Emotions were too exhausting. What he wouldn’t give to be numb.

The kid buried his hand in his hair, and his fingernails scratched his scalp. The rain started sprinkling outside, not that Tommy had noticed. The thoughts in his head were just loud enough to block it out.

The phone, though. The sound of his phone, sitting right next to his bed, ringing incessantly, awoke him from his mind. It pierced through the air, not stopping, no matter how much Tommy wished it would.

With hesitance, he picked it up. He would have to face the music eventually, and what’s the worst that could happen. A lot actually, but Tommy didn’t think about that. Instead, as he pressed the button, he thought about the weather.

It was Wilbur’s voice that came through. It was soft, calmer than his normal greeting. Tommy hated how reassuring it sounded. It made him feel like he was being patronized.

“Hey, Tommy,” the man on the line said. “How’s it going?”

Tommy didn’t want to talk. “What’s up, Wilbur?” Okay, even if Wilbur hadn’t noticed anything, his monotone voice and the shit response would probably send some red flags.

There was a moment of silence before the other man spoke again. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but, are your scars from what I think they are?” 

Tommy paused himself. “Yeah, they are.”

“Can I stay on the line with you for a little while?”

“I guess.”

So the night ran on. Wilbur didn’t try to make conversation. Instead, he took out his guitar and started playing songs. Sometimes he sang, sometimes he didn’t. Some were covers of other songs, some were his original songs. Tommy listened the whole time. It was peaceful.

The rain picked up and thunder roared outside the window. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. 

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Tommy wished he hadn’t asked. It would mean he would have to get up and do something.

But, Wilbur, he knew. He was smart. “It’s okay if you don’t get up yet. I guess you can just have some snacks tomorrow.”

“That sounds…” Tommy thought. “Okay.” 

That was how he fell asleep that night. Wilbur also fell asleep eventually himself, guitar in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me after doing only 5/13 of the prompts: mmmm maybe a break from this book? Mmmmm?   
> Whoops! 
> 
> Also, one of the reasons I’m pausing this book is to do another series. So, if you want more of my content, read my current series and look out for my new one, coming out a long time from now, because I procrastinate. (wow i sound like a cooperation, but no, i just love attention.)  
> (Since last night, I got distracted and started another whole series, that's two series to work on. Great job, RJ.)
> 
> If I didn’t get to your prompt, I genuinely apologize. I literally replied to every comment saying I would, which was a lie. You still have a chance to get your prompt written about, it’s just on the back burner right now, and this book might not be updated for a couple weeks because I'm lazy. Also, feel free to critique my writing. Just don’t be too mean about it or anything.
> 
> With love, RJ


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, I had two nights where I wanted to talk about different shit, so here they both are in one chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big note: I’m not trying to speculate about the actual streamers! I just had some thoughts about their dsmp characters and thought I’d dump them all on you guys. 
> 
> Also, notes about this book and other books at the end notes.

Pt. 1: Stupid fucking pronoun head cannons for the dsmp

You ask each character for their pronouns (all jokes! Please don’t get offended)

Tommy: uhhhh which ones are the guy ones again?  
Tubbo: uh, I’ve forgotten what a pronoun is, sorry  
Techno: he/him. Get out of my way /:  
Philza: he/him, yours?  
Dream: I’m a guy?  
Wilbur: he/him  
Ghostbur: well, he/him, but maybe, hmmm. Could I use other ones? I suppose I’ll give it some thought…  
Quackity: uh, like he or whatever  
Jschlatt: I’m a fucking dude? Get out of my office, liberal  
Fundy: he/him, thanks for asking. Now, what are yours?  
Eret: any is fine. You?  
Bbh: like which ones I know of? [you explain] Oh, okay. I guess he/him then

That was just for fun okey

Now onto the more real headcanons for characters-  
staring: let me vibe in my fantasy word where I can properly think about gender in an experimental fashion

Ghostbur: yes, it’s true, Ghostbur radiates he/they energy, at least to me. Man wears that fucking sweater and beanie everywhere. Is that not a he/they thing to do?  
Not to mention, I’ve been seeing tik toks about gender envy, and a lot of them use none humans to show how they feel about gender. It just really fits the vibe for me personally. Maybe I’ll write a fic about it someday

Tommy: I’ve literally written trans guy fics about this man. The idea of having performative femininity but not performative masculinity is a good baseline. The constant reassurance that he is a man and shit is really a trans guy vibe since there aren’t many other ways to affirm your masculinity. Not to mention, flirting and acting like you don’t understand women, but really wanting to date them unfortunately strikes a few chords. His is out of ignorance though.

Pause to explain: I believe the humor of Tommy’s women jokes comes out of his ignorance, because I really don’t think he’s a misogynist. I’m not saying he’s ignorant about women, but that’s what the base of all of those woman jokes were. That’s all.

Philza: alright. Listen. I promise I have a point here. In every person who’s never been in an lgbtq+ community, there is, hidden inside them, the deep potential to add a ‘they’ to their pronouns list. Am I wrong? Just some thoughts. The idea of the kids calling him ‘parental guardian’ sometimes inside of ‘dad’ is too good to pass up anyway.

Bbh: I stand by the point I just made. In truth I don’t get any big gender vibes from him going one way or the other. I’m not going to say a lot, because I don’t know enough about the character, but give it a thought.

Did I make this part specificity to talk about the possibility of Philza and Ghostbur being he/they? Maybe

P.2: Hello again folks! This part is centered around DID, which I do not have. It’s just one of my special interests, and I’ve done a lot of research in my spare time. However, if I screw up something, make sure to tell me in the comments. Also, this was written a while ago, on January 4th for reference.

In this part specifically, I’ll be discussing DID!Wilbur. Now, as I said, none of this is speculation. It’s more of an au (alternative universe version) of his, and any other parties mentioned’s, internet personas, hence the ‘!’ I used. 

Definitions of terms I thought you might need:  
Alter- one of the ‘people’ that take residence in the body  
Core- the original alter, aka what that system was born as  
System- all of the alters that are in a body  
Fronting- having control of the body  
Host- the one who fronts most of the time  
Introject- an alter based off a real person, commonly either the abuser or a person very close to the alter(s)  
Fictive- an alter based off a fictional character  
Protector- in summary, protectors, as their name suggests. They typically come in three different forms but for this fic, you only need to know about caretakers/soothers  
Caretakers/soothers- offer emotional support and comfort to other alters who need it  
Persecutors- oof. These guys are basically ‘misguided protectors’ who may injure the body of the system, or ‘punish’ other alters. Most are very aggressive. They can be negotiated with, and I believe from sources I read, any alters can change roles, including these guys.  
Gatekeeper- these alters manage who is fronting or control the memories of the specific alters

Keep in mind as you’re reading this, not all alters follow rules or have a specific role. It was just a good baseline for this au 

Other things: if you’re even thinking about arguing about fictive stuff or introjects not being real, or honestly anything else like that, just don’t. There are scientists with degrees who’ve studied this disorder and don't try and tell me they’re wrong about it. Do some research yourself if you’re so butthurt about it. 

I think of Wilbur as the host in this au. He’s the internet persona we know and love, and he’s in charge, aka fronting, most of the time. There isn’t much to say about him as he’s literally just Wilbur

When it comes to Protectors and stuff, I kind of want to say Introject!Philza because Dadza and shit. Of course he’d be a caretaker/soother. I imagine host!wilbur could be really embarrassed to admit that introject!philza was part of his system to irl!philza. I’m not sure how many jobs an alter can hold, but I could also see introject!philza as a gatekeeper

The Editor- I haven’t really come up with a name for this alter yet. It’s loosely based on the character from the editor Wilbur saga, because this is an au and reality can be whatever I want. It’s a persecutor and uses it/its pronouns. All of the other alters I list use he/him, unless otherwise stated. It’s kind of a dick, and is triggered by the word ‘cold’ or freezing temperatures. I was thinking (once again, this is an au of my design, NOT speculation; trigger warning here) that this alter might have been formed as a response to being left out in intensely cold weather due to neglect or terrible ridiculous punishment repeatedly.

Ghost- mmmm, based off one of my favorites of Wilbur’s characters, Ghostbur! Ever since I learned about fictives and supernatural alters I was fascinated by them. [i've got to get into some more triggering stuff right here, so once again, this is a self-indulgent au not speculation and trigger warning here] A lot of people with DID deal with severe depression and suicidal tendencies. So, after an attempt, Ghost is formed. There isn’t a whole lot of research on this type of alter yet, so I don’t have much else to say about the formation. But, yes, Ghost does have memories of L’manberg and the dsmp, even though it doesn’t exist in this au outside of Ghost’s memory.

Sock- teen alter. This alter gets along with Tommy well, and the two make a very mischievous team. Not much to say about Sock. They don’t have any memories from before they were formed, and chose the name Sock at random. Also, they could be non-binary. I literally just haven’t decided.

The average number of alters is like ten or something, but these were my most interesting ideas, and so I’ve done what I needed to do.

Here’s a few helpful websites I found if you wanna learn more about DID:  
http://traumadissociation.com/alters#caretaker  
https://medcraveonline.com/JPCPY/formation-and-functions-of-alter-personalities-in-dissociative-identity-disorder-a-theoretical-and-clinical-elaboration.html

Good for a quick read if you want to know more about the disorder:  
https://www.beautyafterbruises.org/blog/didmyths

Once again, if you are a system, or just know something I don’t, feel free to comment! Like I said, this is my special interest (along with the whole mcyt community), so I love learning more about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, update about my account in general. I was writing a fic that so far is 10,944 words. I was planning on finishing it and then releasing it. Unfortunately, it has been scrapped because it was a ship fic and I've just heard the cc’s involved aren’t comfortable with shipping. So, it might be a while until I release my next fic. It’ll be another found family sbi fic + others, so i don’t have to worry about shipping rules. Although, it’ll take around two weeks or more because I wanna finish it before I start releasing it. I might still work on some one shots during that time though.


	14. Request Updates!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oi guys, big oof time. (Yikes why was that so cringy)

Anyways, people keep requesting things, and I felt bad for not doing some of them so this is the fic where i explain why i haven’t done your fic yet, or plan on not doing it. Technically, any of these prompts could be made into fics, but I didn't want to disappoint anyone, as these are the ones I plan on not doing. Also, please don’t apologise for any of these requests. The fact you commented on them is a huge compliment and I love all you guys so much.

could have something when in dream smp fundy came out as trans to wilbur, wilbur is also trans and kinda goes, me to or something. up to you but its been great reading your writing so far, great work- Theshycreeper

I don’t watch fundy regularly and i don’t think I'd be able to write him well-enough, especially because it looks like something id write from fundy’s perspective

...a member of sbi is aro and/or ace? need me some rep. I love your writing! Take the time you need, & feel free to only write the things that inspire you (aka you totally don't have to write my prompt)! You rock!- loosecloudymist_OperaEagleAce

Am i afraid of finding out im ace or aro because ive seen romance and sex as the end all be all to my future happiness and sadness? Maybe. Do I want to explore that yet? No. 

either like other server member's reactions/thoughts on sbi, something more fluffy dealing with tommy's exile, or like tommy being jealous that tubbo gets phils attention now that he (tommy) is exiled” - iamverysadaboutalotofthings

This is very vague and I feel like it’d be disappointing, because I mainly watch sbi. I feel like i wouldn’t be able to do anyone else justice because, like i said with fundy, i don’t watch them and therefore they’d be wildly ooc

Maybe something fluffy where SBI or other members of Dream SMP reassure Tommy after stream that they do care about him, that it’s all roleplay? You could also maybe do it like he read hate comments about his character on the smp on Twitter and started wondering if the people on the smp really like him or not.- Wise127

Imma be honest, the hate comment stuff genuinely gets to me. It’s so sad and I really don’t understand how anyone could say that about such a great kid like Tommy, or any of the Dream Smp streamers. Also, it feels weird to intersect the dsmp world and the “irl” world for me personally. They feel very separate to me, but it seems like it’d make a great fic

tommy coming back from being exiled and doing something badass. Like saving L’manberg from dream by killing him or just something like that. idk i just really wanna see some BAMF tommy. ->hybrid au where tommy reveals himself as a powerful and rare hybrid to save his family- theabbsofsteel

I have just written a hybrid au! Check that out if you want. I guess I mostly write angst nowadays in this book and I feel like this is a little out of my wheelhouse. It’s still a really cool idea. If I'm honest, i think id get too invested in the world building and story and accidentally start writing another series, which i don’t really need on my plate right now

Dragons. No I will not elaborate- AHHHH

Again, just the exact same thing I said on the last one. Very cool idea, so cool in fact, that it’s too cool. I love it! But also i have other works im already in the middle of, sorry (again, i really love fantasy, but, like, too much. I would simply get too invested.)

tommy getting exiled but then business boys appear to back him up/take him back to skyblock, to a lil home or smthn? Maybe ranboo joins them?- GordieGord

Honestly, I wasn't around for the business boys era. I wish I was, I really enjoy Tommy’s content nowadays, and I'm sure I'd love to go back and watch his old stuff if I had the time. I got into tommy’s streams during the dream smp through wilbur’s channel, which I'd been watching for around a year, but I wasn't super dedicated to it yet. Basically, I started watching the actual streams after the “I started a revolution on the Dream SMP” video and since then Tommy has become my second favorite streamer, just behind Wilbur. The prompt would be really cool, if i knew more about the business boys, I’d totally write this prompt!

i have some songifc ideas, maybe Stonewall Stone Fence by Gregory & the Hawk and/or burning pile by mother mother for a Wilbur-centric fic. i can’t think of any for tommy, maybe care by beabadoobee?- fumikoko

Damn i just haven’t gotten around to this one? Maybe i’ll throw it back on the drawing board… i just haven’t thought about it too much yet.

tommy getting wings (and like, only him and phil have wings if that makes sense?? so noone but phil can help) in exile but its painful (like ur fic teehee) and hes so close to bleeding out like

Just wrote it, it should be published a few minutes after i put out this little explanation chapter! Hope you enjoy it!!!! <3

i’m not sure if you’re still taking requests (if you aren’t feel free to ignore this :)) but maybe some more trans wilbur? maybe he’s meeting up with sbi and on his period. like feeling run down, emotional, having cramps and maybe a bit dizzy? like he’s out to them and all but they’re all cis so they don’t know and are concerned, maybe kristen is there and she knows what’s going on? idk. i’m on my period now and i’m just feelin it. either way i really love you’re writing like holy shit i have reread this book so many times <33

Again, i'm actually planning to write this one! Wild! If this aint the most relatable thing. I’m a little nervous about writing Kristen, but I think I'll manage. Also, it’s a huge compliment to hear you’ve reread my book???? Like wow thanks <3 so yeah, i’m writing this prompt

Hello reader! Thank you so much for reading my chapters!

Also, prompt requesters, thank you so much for sending your ideas to me! It’s so cool to hear people want you to write about something, and there is no reason to apologise if I've said I can't or won’t do your prompt. It’s been very pog writing all these for you guys, and i love you all <3

It always brightens my day when I get any comments or kudos on any of my fics, and I wanted to thank anyone who did either of those things, or just read this little thing. It really is a great feeling! I hope you all have an excellent day and since your reading THIS fic, I hope you start doing better mentally too ( /j i think)

Sorry about that last part… just jokes my guys. But seriously, have a good day y’all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technical stuff lol: i'm updating my tags and shit… yeah we admitting to the general ao3 reader scrolling past this fic that i write some depressing shit (: . also, found the statistics thing! Very pog! Numbers are so wack bro. I won’t be obsessing over that for the next week or two… nope.


	15. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy getting wings (and like, only him and phil have wings if that makes sense?? so no one but phil can help) in exile but its painful (like ur fic teehee) and hes so close to bleeding out like -yumyumyume
> 
> Aye i'm a big fan of making characters bleed out, so i couldn’t turn this one down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, hey, I'm back! I’ll probably post to this one more since my long fic is done and i'm releasing it currently
> 
> You said exile, so i said, mmmm depression, and so
> 
> TW!!!!: depression shit, suicide implications (nothing intense)

Tommy stared up at the roof of his tent, not sure what to do. Was it worth it to keep trying and failing? No matter what he did, what he accomplished, it would be gone the next day. Dream would blow it all up, and Tommy would stand back and watch, helpless, like a fly on the wall. It felt disgusting. It made him ill. Most of all, it hurt. Everyday Dream showed up, he talked to Tommy, sometimes he even hugged Tommy. That was more than he could say for even his closest friends from L’manberg, most of which hadn’t visited him. 

It was getting hard to keep track of the days too. Had it been a few weeks? A month? Longer? Tommy didn’t know, and it was getting harder to care. It was getting harder to care about the world around him, himself. Even his long-time friends who he hadn’t seen in so long were drifting from his memories. It’s scary how fast the human brain forgets a face, it can happen in a matter of days. 

So, there Tommy lay, armorless, unprotected, and weak. He was without a goal, without motivation, without purpose. It was strange, not fighting for something, defending it. He was sure Tubbo was doing fine with L’manberg. He must be making such a good president, Tommy thought, now that I’m not around distracting him. 

More days passed, full of absolutely nothing at all. He sat around, looking out to the sea, or occasionally killing an animal or two to feed himself. He didn’t need to fill his hunger bar much, he didn’t need strength. Dream had shown him he didn’t need it, because that was what Dream wanted, and by god, if Dream didn’t get what he wanted then it wouldn’t matter if Tommy was strong or not, because Dream would always be stronger.

One day, he started mining dirt. Enough dirt to build a large tower, one not at all like his cobblestone towers. If Dream wouldn’t let him go to the nether, he’d need an approach that required a little more effort. It was hard to mine and he hated it. He felt tired after gathering half a stack. He sat down, lay down, looking up at the sky. Dream hadn’t said anything, as he watched Tommy getting worse. It didn’t matter to him, to Dream, because to him, Tommy would always be weak. If he was weaker than before, it didn’t matter to him. He still had control over the boy, now more than ever. And Tommy still couldn’t bring himself to care, despite being aware of this.

He cried, thinking, I have gotten weak, haven’t I? He wanted someone to hug. Not, Dream. He wanted someone to hug, but that wasn’t going to happen. He wanted to be far away from Dream. He never wanted to see Dream again. Tommy’s adrenaline kicked in, and the kid made his way onto his feet, feeling the urge to run. So he did run, he ran until he couldn’t anymore. He ran until he was surrounded by snow and trees that were covered in snow.

The cold ground seemed to freeze his feet, as he realized where he was. He was so far away from Dream, from Logchester. He was shit at remembering places. How would he ever get back? Tommy thought, I’m shit. I shouldn’t have done this. Tommy felt like crying again. His face still felt bad after his last sob, crusty and all. Dream would never forgive him for this. Dream would hit him. Maybe Dream would lock him up, he was a flight risk now, after all. Dream couldn’t trust Tommy and it was all his fault. Tommy had just lost the one person who at least pretended to care about him, and that was better than nothing. Tommy knew this, because he now had nothing, and it felt terrible.

He was alone, surrounded by nothing at all. He was in a sort of void, where there was nobody else, no one else’s body heat, and no one else’s voice. He was completely by himself. Maybe he would freeze to death out here. No one would find him, Dream wouldn’t bother to look. No one would care, or even give his disappearance a second glance.

So, he laid down in the white slush. It was strong and numbing. The tips of his fingers and his nose became red first, and his fingers felt like they had a layering of ice over them. He traced the top of the layer of ice, looking up again. There was nowhere else to go, other than up, Tommy thought, laughing a little. It was funny, in the way that a man who was about to be very close to dying would think was funny. It was only a matter of minutes before he lost consciousness. 

\-------

Tommy’s eyes opened. His eyes moved back and forth but settled on the unfamiliar ceiling above him. It wasn’t Trent, and it wasn’t the sky, that was for sure. Was it heaven perhaps, or somewhere worse? He didn’t feel like sitting up, instead, he touched the tips of his fingers together. He wasn’t sure why he did that, but it helped in a lot of stressful scenarios. His fingertips felt tingly, but he wasn’t sure why. He slowly traced the skin he felt as if he would recognize the microscopic grooves and dips that made up his fingerprint. His toes also still worked, he discovered slowly.

Wherever he was, it was warm, far different from where he last remembered himself being. He could hear the faint sound of a fire crackling somewhere near him. Other than that, it was pretty much silent. It was also pretty dark. It was night if he had to guess, and the only light he saw was probably from the fire he heard. His hands rose to his face, tracing it now. It was still cold, cold enough that it had that smooth feeling to it. A blanket had been draped over him, and a fuzzy one at that. Tommy turned on his side and embraced the feeling of something wrapped around him. It was nice and comforting. 

Now, he could see more of the room, and the house. There were several windows, and he could see he was still in some sort of snowy biome. If he stared hard enough, he thought he might see mountains in the distance if he squinted hard enough. The house was littered with things, mostly potion stands. Around the room, there were the usual, expected things, like a stonecutter, a crafting table, a load of normal chests, an enderchest, etc. There was indeed a fireplace in the corner, emitting a faint, but helpful light. It also was confirmed as the source of heat, as Tommy’s face felt like it was being warmed up after he turned towards it. The design of the house was very nice and aesthetically pleasing, in Tommy’s very professional opinion.

Then the silence of the area broke. Someone moved upstairs. Tommy’s eyes flicked quickly around the room, taking note of the ladders on the other side of the room. His shook, filled with sudden and intense fear. It wasn’t Dream, was it? It couldn’t be Dream. But, couldn’t it? Dream had set this whole thing up. He’d been bored of Tommy just laying around, so he’d just given him the perfect moments, just to rip it out from under his feet. He closed his eyes, waiting for the man to berate him, telling him how weak he was, or just his loud, in-you-face laughter. It did not come. 

Instead, a voice filled his ears, one he hadn’t heard in a long time. “Hey, are you awake there, Tommy?” It was Philza. But was it? Tommy knew Philza could tell he wasn’t sleeping. Tommy didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want everything to be fake.

“I guess, not.” The voice spoke again, moving away from him and back to the ladder. Tommy’s eye opened, the one closest to the couch. That way it was harder to tell the eye was open. His eyes meant the back of a green and white striped robe and looked up to see a similarly-colored bucket hat. Shit, it was him.

“Philza?” Tommy’s voice cracked when he spoke.

The man turned back to him, and Tommy was scared to look at his face. Tommy was afraid of seeing pity. He did though, he looked. “Tommy, you are awake?” Tommy sighed involuntarily. “You feeling okay, bud? I’m worried you got frostbite or something.” A nervous chuckle came out of Philza’s mouth, and Tommy felt Philza’s eyes studying him.

“I’m fine.” Tommy didn’t mean to snap at Philza, it just felt like he was patronizing him. 

He didn’t look at Philza’s face when he spoke. He just looked out the window, and tried to see the mountains again.. “Well, tell me if that changes, okay?” Philza sounded sad. He didn’t need to, Tommy thought to himself, and the man started to move. Tommy knew he would go, leave. 

Instead, he shifted from his seat and joined Tommy in looking out the window. Tommy felt like crying, and he finally thought back to the pounding pain in his back, he’d barely noticed. He didn’t know why it was there. He could understand if his fingers hurt, or if he was hungry or something, but couldn’t find a reason for his back pain. He didn’t want to cry again, for the third time, so he shoved the side of his face into a pillow for a while. 

There was a long period of time when the two of them just sat in silence, watching as it began snowing outside. It made Tommy dizzy when he tried to pick out individual snowflakes to look at. So, he just watched the snowfall, the motion of it. 

With all the pain it was hard to focus, but he still didn’t want to talk or do anything at the moment. His eyes watered, but he still tried to resist the urge to cry. It seared, the sting in his back, and he tried not to wince at the sudden strike of agony. ‘Tried’ being the keyword.

Philza turned his attention away from the window. “You sure you’re okay, bud?” It was so nice to hear his voice, to hear the voice of somebody who cared. His eyes scanned Tommy for any sort of injury he could’ve missed while looking back to his face on occasion.

“I’m not sure.” Tommy forced his voice not to crack. It felt like the back of his throat was closing slowly, and being flooded with water. “My back hurts, like seriously. I don’t know why.”

Philza nodded. “Alright, can you turn around and take off your shirt? You could have bruises or cuts there or something. Hopefully nothing worse,” he joked. Unfortunately, Tommy wasn’t feeling very humorous at the moment and it was a genuine fear of his. Nonetheless, he wordlessly pulled his shirt off and flopped onto his stomach.

“See anything, doc?” Tommy prompted his head up on a pillow and looked over to his father. Philza frowned. 

“Well, not bruises or cuts, that’s for sure. There’s nothing visible on your skin.” He looked towards Tommy worriedly.

“Great, now I have to deal with internal bleeding or whatever…” Tommy sighed. “And I thought I would have a day to rest.” 

“Well, it might not be that, Tommy.” Thankfully, Philza was looking slightly less concerned now, looking more hopeful. “It’s possible that you’re growing in wings.”

Tommy tried to sit up and failed, but still yelled excitedly. “Hell yeah, wings!”

“Calm down, Tommy. Although wings are incredibly useful and cool things to have, growing them in is a pain in the ass, and if your pain is telling me anything, it’s that they’re coming in, and coming in soon. This will be anything but a restful day.” Tommy groaned and threw his head back into the pillow. Cool wings, but at what cost?

“The change can last any amount of time, for thirty minutes or several hours. It depends on the wingspan. If you’re anything like your dad,” he said, flashing his large wings, “it’ll be that ladder. Sorry for the inconvenient genetics, but at least you’ll be as cool as me, if not cooler.” While Philza tried to make some banter, another wave of the dreaded pain ran through him. 

“Fuck, Philza. Why didn’t you tell me having wings hurts so much?” Tommy rolled over and tried to use the couch to try to rub his back because of course his back felt itchy. “Ouch.”

“You’re lucky I’m here. When I changed, I was completely alone, and had no idea what was happening.”

“Who cares, Philza? This hurts, I can listen to you talk later,” Tommy complained. “What do I even do, just sit around and wait?”

Philza shrugged. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I can get you water or something. I imagine you’re thirsty, or maybe hungry.” Tommy suddenly remembered food existed and let out a little gasp.

“Yes! Can I have some soup or something, and maybe some hot chocolate? That would be lovely!” Tommy smiled through the pain, waiting for his delicious food.

It felt like he was in a part of the universe where time didn’t exist. It was a very strange experience like you were about to go to sleep, but you were also in immense pain that was indescribable, literally. So, he laid there and prayed for his soup and hot chocolate.

“One Tommy special, coming right up,” came Philza’s voice. Tommy looked up to see Philza setting a plate and mug down on a flat chair, right next to the couch.

“I feel like your vibes are off for this event, Philza.”

“Shit,” Philza said. “My bad, Tommy.” There was another long silence. Tommy took a sip of his drink and started spooning his soup into his mouth. “How’s it been, since I’ve been gone?” The man settled onto the floor next to the couch again, like before.

“A lot has happened.” Tommy thought back to his last few moments in L’manberg, watching his best friend’s eyes flicker back to Tommy as he sent him into exile. “Nothing I want to talk about.” His voice was more strained than he’d expected it to be. He was getting used to the feeling in his back, he wondered if that was normal. 

“I’ve just been out here this whole time with Techno. It can be a little lonely sometimes, you know. He’s a little quiet.” Philza paused a moment. “Say, if you don’t want to go back to L’manberg, you could stay here.” Philza glanced at him, waiting for a response.

He didn’t have to wait long. “What makes you think I don’t want to go back to L’manberg?”

Philza sighed. “Tommy, it doesn’t take a genius to find you like that and assume you were running from something or someone. I don’t know why you would, but it’s not my place to question you. You only have to tell me if you want.” Philza is kind, Tommy thought. Philza is comforting. It was different from Dream’s comfort, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, things haven’t been great.” And that’s all Tommy had to say about that. More silence visited the room, filling it without warning. They sat together for a while until a new, more intense wave of pain hit him. “Oh, more pain! This sucks!” Philza turned towards him.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch! Yeah, this one hurts, like a lot more.” Philza’s eyebrows drew together in concern. 

“Can you turn over for me again? Sorry, I know it’s probably more comfortable to be on your back, I just want to make sure nothing is wrong.” Tommy sighed but nodded. Switching sides was a little painful, but it was hard to hold in comparison to the rest of the pain he was feeling at the moment.

“Oh, shit. The wings are already coming out. They’re certainly sooner than my wings were.” Tommy groaned again. Why did he have to be so enthusiastic about this whole thing? “Alright, you’re bleeding now. I probably should’ve thought to put a towel down, but nothing we can do about it now.” Tommy thought that last part was more for Philza than the conversation they weren't really having. Philza left the room a moment. Tommy thought it was nice to be with Philza, after so long.

When he reentered, it was with a hand towel and a bowl of water. He started lightly dabbing the sources of pain on his back, presumably wiping away the blood. There were several minutes of this, it seemed like the blood was never-ending. It felt wrong. Philza was starting to look more nervous, which was off-putting because he had seemed so excited about it just a minute or two ago.

“Everything okay back there, big man?” Tommy flicked his eyes back to the window, feeling more pain.

“Everything’s going fine, Tommy,” he said, but he was lying. Tommy knew he was lying, because… he just did. The man had raised him, it was easy at this point after Philza had been lying about Santa Claus for like twelve years. Philza wiped more blood off him.

“No, no. I think I’m bleeding too much.” Tommy hated the uncontrollable panic in his voice.

“Just a little. It’s nothing to worry about though. Everyone’s transformation is different,” Philza reassured him softly. Tommy thought maybe he meant it, although he did still sound unsure.

“It just really fucking hurts, Philza,” Tommy said. Suddenly his brain lurched around enough to give him whiplash, like he’d just spun around in one of those really old bumper-cars carts. What if he had still been around Dream when this happened? He didn’t want to think about it, but it was hard not to.  
But a hand brought him out of the rabbit hole, specifically, Philza’s hand petting his hair. “It’ll be over soon, okay, Tommy? Tell me how you’re feeling right now.”

“I’m scared, Philza.” It hurt to say. He didn’t even want to say it in the first place, but it just kind of slipped out. He shoved his face in the pillow. He knew Philza could still see him, and it was childish, but he needed to feel like he was alone.

“It’s not something I’m doing is it?” He could hear the concern in Philza’s voice. He didn’t know, so that’s what he said.

“I don’t think so.” He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted the feeling of Philza’s hand rubbing the top of his head. Philza could protect Tommy and he probably would. Safety was an unfamiliar feeling to Tommy as of late, so much that it felt foreign and odd. So, while feeling scared, he also realized he somehow felt safe. “Just keep moving your hand around, and don’t lie to me about my wings.”

Philza took a second to respond. “It’s- they’re coming out, just at a strange pace. I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine in the long run, but it’ll probably hurt a lot. You’re going to have to be brave for this Tommy, but I know that won’t be a problem for you.” There was his fatherly instinct, trying to cheer Tommy up at a time when that was practically impossible. It wouldn’t be a problem for Tommy, that was true. The kid had already fought in multiple wars and been exiled from the country he’d built twice. How could a little physical pain hurt him? Like this, apparently. 

Because it did hurt. It hurt more than anything he could remember. The pain rushed through him again and he screamed violently. He knew it was weird that his first emotion after that was embarrassment, but it didn’t matter, because he clamped his hand over his mouth.

“It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.” Philza moved his hand to wipe off more blood. Tommy had completely forgotten and instinctually thought his back was just very sweaty, but no, it was all blood. Blood was covering a majority of his back, running down it. Maybe some of the liquid was just the water Philza was using, but he didn’t care enough to think about it that much.

“I can see ‘em now, just the top,” Philza murmured in a quiet tone. Tommy thought he might feel his wings. It was odd, as one might expect, but it also felt natural. Still, his whole body was hurting. His head started pounding, trying to deal with the pain of his new appendages making their way out of the skin on his back. “It won’t be too long now.”

And it wasn’t. The wings were out of his body faster than he expected, but he also wasn’t sure how much time had passed then. The entirety of his transformation felt like a huge bloody, blurry memory to him, even as it was happening. He tried stretching them out, as they’d been feeling cramped. They were like arms in some ways, but also so different. He could feel each individual feather attached to them, and they were certainly heavier and bigger than his arms. Then, he realized something.

“Holy, shit! Can I fly now?” Tommy whipped around to look at Philza, who was looking at him with a face full of pride.

“Not yet.” Tommy pouted at that. “You should get used to them for a week or two first. It can be overwhelming, and they’re a big adjustment. You’re going to knock over so many valuable things with those guys.” Philza motioned towards the wings. 

Tommy, overwhelmed with happiness, after hearing he got to fly, being out of an extended period of extreme pain, and being comforted by Philza, ran in for a hug. It’d been a while since Tommy had a good hug. Dream barely ever hugged him or showed him any kind of physical comfort. Tubbo had been too busy with the presidency to bother with him, and even before that, he had to spy on Schlatt, not leaving him any time to hang out with Tommy. Wilbur, during the Pogtopia era, lost the ability to make Tommy feel comfortable and the two stopped hugging without Tommy even noticing.

Tommy wrapped his arms around Philza, and the other man did the same to him. It was different this time, different than any other hug. Tommy’s wings also instinctually sandwiched Philza between them, and Philza in turn did the same, wrapping around him. Tommy was safe, here, with Philza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone!


	16. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’m not sure if you’re still taking requests (if you aren’t feel free to ignore this :)) but maybe some more trans wilbur? maybe he’s meeting up with sbi and on his period. like feeling run down, emotional, having cramps and maybe a bit dizzy? like he’s out to them and all but they’re all cis so they don’t know and are concerned, maybe kristen is there and she knows what’s going on? idk. i’m on my period now and i’m just feelin it. either way i really love you’re writing like holy shit i have reread this book so many times <33 -Goatly_Sacrifices
> 
> that's a vibe, here it is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, here's an update for the first time in forever

The drive into town was long, way longer than Wilbur had expected it to. Thankfully, he did get in around two-thirty, meaning he wouldn’t have to rush off and do something the moment he settled down. He had decided to get a small hotel room, like most of the others were, in the general vicinity of everyone else who was coming. When he arrived he didn’t bother ‘unpacking’ per say. He just opened his suitcase and left all the clothes inside instead of putting them into the small, useless drawers in the room. The bathroom was on the smaller side, but was about what he expected it to look like. All in all, the room was mediocre.

He set off to plug in his laptop and get to editing a video he’d recorded recently. The time whizzed by, and Wilbur had almost forgotten to check the clock.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, realizing it was around three-thirty-seven already. They were all supposed to meet up somewhere at four.

The bathroom smelled worse then he realized. He took a quick piss and a moment to replace his pad. He stuffed some in his bag for extra measure. It was around four, and they’d probably be out until eight if they had dinner together. He dreaded getting back in his car, but thankfully the park they were meeting up at was very close.

In the end, he was only seven minutes late. Besides, Tommy was eleven minutes late, not that anyone was counting. The park was small, and a little too gentrified for Wilbur’s taste, but he didn’t really care about the scenery. There was a restaurant in the park, as well as the sprinklers in the floor that kids could play in. It even had those fully-functioning bathrooms with multiple stalls. The trees were lacking too, only a few scattered here and there.

“So, what is there to do in this place?” Tommy was energetic as usual. He was already yelling backwards to the rest of the crew, who were significantly slower in comparison.

“Well, me and Kristen were looking at some local art museums around here, so that will be fun, I suppose,” Philza explained to them all. “I was thinking we could go to the outdoors one. It’ll be a lot more COVID safe, and it’s not as well known, so less people.”

Wilbur nodded but zoned out of the conversation rather fast. At least it smelled nice out here. There were a lot of colorful flowers scattered about, and there were ducks being noisy in a large pond. It wasn’t quite large enough to be a lake. He tried not to focus on his walking, because he of course, got a cramp. It wasn’t even from the walking though, because then it would’ve been so much more bearable. 

“Aye, Wilbur, what do you think of this place? It has seafood,” Philza said, catching the man’s attention.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Wilbur said, sharper then he’d meant to. It was one of those things where you knew the problem and it’s cause, but you couldn’t really do anything about it. He didn’t really get mean on his cycle, he just got tired. It took more effort to talk to people. The world around him felt complicated. It felt speed-up, at the same time like it was spinning and collapsing in on him. It made it hard to focus on talking to people. Scratch that, talking to people made his brain feel like it was collapsing in on itself.

Again, the conversation was swept from under his feet, as he looked back to some of the geese, birds he hadn’t noticed. Two large ones fought for a piece of bread a small child had thrown them. The kid laughed at the two, who persistently pecked at each other, in hopes to get a bit of the tiny meal. 

Soon, the scene passed out of Wilbur’s view, and he looked at the pavement beneath him, but if he focused on it too long, it would spin. He glanced over to the others, walking next to him. Tommy was smiling and waving his arms around, and Techno, Philza, and Kristen watched him, content. He was talking about some minecraft mod he thought would be good for another video. Wilbur only caught bites and pieces of the conversation, though. His cramps were getting worse, and he was at the point where he would literally just go home and immediately take a nap, if he was along, that is. But he wasn’t. He was here, with his friends, for the first time in a long time, so he endured and ignored.

About an hour passed, and they’d all made their way around the circle of a path twice. Wilbur felt like shit. 

“Where we headed next, guys? It’s too early for dinner right now,” Philza said to all of them. 

There was various conversion, before Wilbur piped in. “I’m going to use the restroom before we leave.” It was a clear statement of fact, yet he knew it came off… well, it came off like he was an asshole. Maybe he was overthinking. He wasn’t sure.

He went alone. He didn’t really have to replace his pad or even use the restroom, his brain was just all foggy. Instead of using the bathroom for its intended purposes, he just sat on the seat with his head in his hands. It was usually a lot more calm in bathrooms, but this one let natural light in, meaning it was a lot brighter and more obnoxious than normal bathrooms. It was still a good rest, but it was quite annoying when the place could clearly have normal light bulbs if it wanted to, plus it was giving him a headache.

The crew outside had decided to go to the outdoor art museum, even though it was planned for the next day. Techno supplied that they might have different groups of artists on different days, and so, off they went. Wilbur liked his car this time, and the calm it stored.

By the time they got there, there were only a few booths open. One woman working a stand for glass mosaics informed them that most vendors work in the mornings because it’s cooler and people just seem to like shopping in the morning more. They still explored the five left, and Tommy got a knit dog, Philza and Kristan bought a quilt thing from another vendor. Techno and Wilbur decided to hold out to the next day. The five of them formed a circle, discussing possibilities.

“We only have like an hour left, but I’m not hungry yet,” Tommy whined. They all wanted to eat at seven.

“I guess we could do some more walking,” Techno said, sounding bored.

“There isn’t really much we can do around here right now. Maybe Techno’s right and we can just walk around the city itself some more,” Philza said trying to be helpful. Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Philza, don’t you think we’ve done enough walking today,” Wilbur prompted.

“Yeah,” Tommy mumbled in agreement, yawning. 

“Aw, are you two boys tired?” Kristan spoke, and suddenly, Wilbur remembered she was there. He didn’t mean to forget, it’d just been a while since she’d spoken.

“I mean, we spent like an hour going in a circle, so maybe I am a little bored.” Maybe Wilbur crossed his arms in discontent at that moment. It depends who you ask.

“Got any better ideas then, Wilbur.” It was Techno this time. “We can’t go inside yet, we can’t go eat, I’m coming up empty here.”

“Okay smartass.” Okay, so maybe Wilbur was being a bit of a shit. “Congratulations, you want to keep doing what we’ve been doing for the past hour or so. Got any original ideas?”

“Boys, boys. Calm down.” It was Philza this time, trying to stop the storm.

“Ayo, Philza, can we just go back to your place? You’ve got stuff to do right, and we’ve all tested negative for COVID already.” Tommy popped back into the conversation, with a wise piece of brain power. Wilbur was sad he didn’t think of it himself.

“I think that’d be fine, right Philza,” Kristan said. He nodded, and Tommy cheered. Wilbur smiled a little, but Techno was put-off that he lost an argument.

So, back in the car it was for him. He turned the music up on a song he liked and sang along. The subject matter of the song was actually pretty heavy, so Wilbur may have teared up. He knew he wouldn’t fucking be like this unless he was on his cycle, so he was pissed off and sad for a good portion of the ride. Once the song switched, he gathered himself, and wiped away the streaks left by his tears. It was a good way to get his emotions out, but at that point, he was tired enough to accidentally fall asleep.  
He did end up at the house without crashing his car though, which was a win in his books. The house was nice, a one-floor two bedroom, if he had to guess. Maybe to bathroom two, or maybe three, if they were feeling fancy whilst buying it. A moment later, the car containing Tommy and Techno pulled up. Techno had gotten to drive Tommy around, since Wilbur’s car was too messy. Philza and Kristan were already inside, waiting for them.

“Hey, guys, do you just want to order the food and eat here?” Philza shouted from the other room, as the three of them entered the house.

“Lock the door behind you please,” added Kristan. Techno complied, turning the lock.

All of them ended up in the living room. Kristan, Philza, and Techno were sitting on the couch and Wilbur and Tommy were little floor rats. Dinner had been ordered, and their order had been put in. Philza turned on his TV and turned on Netflix.

“Oh, we should watch Up!” Tommy said, enthusiastically. 

“Sorry Tommy, we don’t have disney plus on our TV, I don’t think it’s on Netflix.” Wilbur could hear the disappointment in Philza’s voice. He couldn’t find the strength to speak and tell the others they could pirate it very easily off the internet. He was tired again, and his cramps were hitting again.

They spent a good ten minutes searching around, and came up empty. Wilbur hadn’t said a word the whole time, filled with pain and contained distress. A doorbell rang in the distance, and both Philza and Techno got up to get the food. Kristen made her way to the kitchen, and Tommy leaned over to Wilbur.

“Aye Wilbur, you feelin’ okay? You haven’t talked much.” Wilbur could hear the concern in Tommy’s words, but his mouth couldn’t form the words well enough, so he told a half truth.

“I don’t know, I’m just going to get some water.” So, he got up and went to the kitchen. He wanted to ask where the Advil was, but Kristan was intimidating. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he barely knew her, wanted to make a good impression on her, or something else entirely, it was just daunting.

He grabbed a cup from the cupboard with glass panes and started filling it with water. 

“Hey, Wilbur,” Kristen popped up. Wilbur looked over, moving his cup away from the refrigerator’s water spout. “Did you want some Advil? You look like you have a bad headache.” Wilbur nodded, and she leaned up to open a cupboard without glass panes. She handed him a little pill bottle, an Advil bottle. “Oh, and-” there was brief hesitation. “I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries or anything, but if you need a hot water bottle or anything like that, do not hesitate to ask me. I get it, dude.” And Wilbur smiled a little.

“Was it that obvious?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just instinct,” she replied, with a good choice of words. “Are you gonna be okay tonight?”

“I think so,” Wilbur said, feeling a lot better.

“Let’s get in there and eat some seafood. Maybe they’ve finally found something to watch.”

Kristan entered the room and her and Wilbur handed everyone their drinks. Philza and Techno passed out the dishes, and Tommy thanked both groups, while flipping through Netflix’s catalogue. Wilbur had a pretty decent night after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more angst coming soon i promise, maybe in a few days or next week i swear


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmm dumb brain go… mmm cope time! Anyways
> 
> i wrote this yesterday and it's already fucking outdated smh
> 
> TW/CW: Starts with a murder scene, one scene is sort of based off waking up from a panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote these notes yesterday and i don't feel like correcting them, so pretend you don't know tommy was revived lol ):
> 
> I want to preface this with the fact that this is completely self-indulgent wish-fulfilment. I just want Tommy to be happy for once, and this ending did not give that to me at all. I just want happiness for him, and at this point I almost feel like that is impossible. I don’t know whether they’re going to resurrect him, or if this is the end. Either way, getting killed by your abuser is not a good way to go, and I don’t want that to be the end for him, so I made this. As we all know, death isn’t really the end. All the same, Memento Mori, kids. Hope you’re doing better than me
> 
> Explanation on my take on the afterlife, because I like world-building:  
> Each resident has a house, where they can live a peaceful existence, if not a little isolated. When a resident first arrives, they typically spend time alone, or with people who can help them reflect on their time with the living. There is no such thing as perfection, but in the afterlife in my head, there is infinite time to learn new skills, overcome flaws or fear, etc. Basically, you can do everything you couldn’t or didn’t have time to do while you were living. 
> 
> After reflecting on your life a bit, you get access to The Infinite (very creative, I know). The Infinite is the aforementioned access to basically anything one could ever want. This doesn’t include those extra residents mentioned before though. They can only be ones who’ve already died, and the time-line in the afterlife is sort of linear. In a sense, time goes in one direction, but doesn’t pass in the same way as life-life or feels like it doesn’t. It’s impossible to tell which one.
> 
> The aestice is based on the nether, because I like fucking around with mixing minecraft and realism. At least you’re not talking to younger me, who legitimately thought the walls of the nether were made out of the inside of human flesh and was extremely terrified of it. This is not that, I swear. They’re just dark-red rocks now, dear reader. 
> 
> ALSO, crimson planks are purple. Had to add that so you all are imagining this right. Fuck you minecraft people for naming a purple block after a version of the color red. Wtf
> 
> Irrelevant to the story, but the reason I give for the nether being so hot is, instead of the nether void, above and below the nether, there’s just a shit ton of snow and cold. That’s it. It needed to be heated for life, but it went to the extreme, and now the entire ecosystem is heat-based.
> 
> Enough world-building, onto the story

One moment, that felt like the last moment he would ever have, was happening at that moment, to one TommyInnit. Two hands, two fists, battered him relentlessly, and he found himself unable to fight back. All he could do was feel all the pain at once, and stare blankly at the obsidian walls surrounding him, as he choked on his own blood. Once he was on the floor, Dream started kicking him, not kneeling down to Tommy’s level. If Tommy were to give a shit, he would take that as one last insult. Dream had to know he could and would die from this, right? At that point, something broke, besides a few bones. It was just for a moment, that his vision blinked to a deep black. It was like he was closing his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t open them.

Then he sat up. His breathing heaved through him as he blinked rapidly. His heart raced to catch up to his brain, filled with unrestrained adrenaline. It felt as if he’d dreamt the whole thing, ironically. The room around him was different, nothing he’d seen on the SMP. It was wooden, like crimson planks. None of the members built with wood from the nether, as far as he knew. Looking out the windows was a whole new beast. It looked like he was in the actual nether, but that wouldn’t make any sense. He moved onto the next pressing issue. His hands grabbed his shirt. As sure as he was it was a dream, it felt so real. He felt as though he would lift his shirt up and see the bruise left behind from his final moment. But it wasn’t his final moments, because here he was, clearly alive. So he didn’t pull up his shirt, because it was a dream, and there would be nothing on his skin. It felt like it hurt, but that wouldn’t make any sense. His brain was just fucking with him.

So, he got up. He got up from the unrecognizable bed and made his way towards an unrecognizable door. The air around him was thick with heat, but not overbearing. It was rather nice, compared to his dream. He shrugged away memories of the cold floor he was shoved onto, and opened the door. 

The house was very open. He could tell he was on the second floor, because of the fact that the second floor was more like a loft. Basically, he could see the downstairs living room from the doorframe of his room. It was big too. There was another spacious living room next to his room, with a balcony. It, like the window in his room, was looking out onto a very red and orange landscape. The living room had a prominent fireplace, notably odd with the thousands of fires and large amounts of molten lava outside.

Tommy was hesitant to go down the stairs, but there wasn’t much else he could do. But, maybe there was. For the next half hour or so, Tommy sat at the top of the stairs and waited for a sign for him to do otherwise. The sign came in the form of two voices from downstairs. He couldn’t see them, but he did recognize their voices. It was startling, shooting his chest into the full fledged adrenaline he’d experienced waking up. Maybe it was the confusion part this time, and the terror that comes with confusion, especially on this scale.

The first voice was the voice of his brother. It was happy, the way he hadn’t heard it in so long. It was followed by a loud groan, and a deeper, american voice, mumbling about how the other was an idiot. Tommy froze. First of all, the two of them were dead. Second, the two of them, well, the two of them definitely weren’t like this the last time he saw them, although, it was hard to recall something that long ago. 

The last time he’d seen the two of them, they’d both stumbled. Their voices cracked. They were both at their worst, yet, he couldn’t hear that. He heard perfect happy people, and it felt wrong.

He remained frozen there for a little bit, listening to them talk, like normal friends did. There was a lot of teasing and cursing from Schlatt’s part, and some mockery thrown from Wilbur’s side. From their banter, he figured out they were in the kitchen, presumably cooking something. God, Tommy was hungry. He hadn’t noticed it until Schlatt mentioned waffle’s. It was then, that Tommy realised that he couldn’t move without them hearing, after thinking about going downstairs just for the waffles.

So, he said fuck it in his head, and stood up. Sure, his feet hadn’t moved, but it was something. He took his steps down the stairs in silence, and it was a good moment before the talking stopped. Tommy rounded the stairs, but his eyes avoided the people in the room. The dead people. They were dead, and so was he. 

“Tommy?” It was Wilbur who spoke first, with unsurprising surprise. Tommy’s eyes finally flickered over to them. Schlatt was sat on a barstool-style chair, and Wilbur was standing next to him with an opened box of poptarts. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” his voice was enthusiastic and halfhearted. He’d just realised he wasn’t alive anymore, after all.

“Hey, kid,” it was Schlatt who spoke next. Wilbur looked unsure, and confused. “Come sit.” He patted the seat next to his, and went to the refrigerator. “You want waffles or pancakes?”

“Waffles, that’d be poggers.” Tommy tried smiling a little, to lighten up his wording. It earned a small chuckle from the man who was moving to the toaster.

“It’s been a while,” was what Wilbur said.

“It has, big man.” Tommy thought for a moment. “What is this place? It looks like the nether, but not as mean and ugly.”

“Um,” Wilbur tapped his finger on the island table in front of them. 

Schlatt put large jugs full of juice and grabbed a cup from the cabinet. “Are you an apple juice guy or orange juice?”   
“Orange juice,” Tommy answered like the question was an insult. “Apple juice is for pussies.”

“Damn right, kid.”

“I ain’t no fucking kid.”

“Whatever you say, kid.”

Tommy frowned.

“Also, I’ll answer for mister quiet over there. This is the afterlife for ya’, I think. I’m dead, and he’s dead, so what else could it be.” Schlatt turned his body to join Tommy in looking out the window. “As a christain, I’m inclined to say we’re in hell, but I don’t think I’m being tortured right now. It’s just sort of a nice mountain-house type deal. The fridge is always stocked, and we never run out of what we need. Like heaven, but with less glowing clouds and more random spots of everlasting fire.” Schlatt started pouring orange juice into the little glass cup. 

As Schlatt talked, Tommy glanced at Wilbur for a moment, then released Wilbur who was looking at him. His eyes moved away, but he tried to watch Wilbur form his peripheral vision and his head didn’t move at all.

“Anyways, I’ll quit babbling and let you two catch up, alright?” And with that, Schlatt left the house, the door loudly shutting behind him.

“Tommy-” Wilbur started.

“Dream killed me. That’s it, if you wanted to know.” 

Wilbur nodded his head. “Dream’s a bastard. 

“Agreed, big man. Absolutely bastardous. Is that a word?” Wilbur gave a soft shrug.

The next twenty minutes were filled with silence as Tommy got his waffles from the toaster. He covered them with syrup and ate them with the aforementioned orange juice Schlatt had poured for him.

“What’s it like, the after life?”

“What, Schlatt’s description is not good enough?” Wilbur grunted with humor. “It’s pretty pleasant. It’s like an all-expenses-paid vacation, for an infinite amount of time. Time doesn’t exist, or something. It’s really hard to tell the difference between night and day here, so we both got clocks. Whatever you ask for just shows up after some time. Um, not sure what else there is to say. I guess I could mention the fire outside doesn’t hurt to stand in.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Tommy said, giving the place his seal of approval.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do, Tommy?” Wilbur inquired.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute! Can we swim in lava?” Tommy stood up from his chair, filled with unbridled energy.

“Fuck yeah we can!” Wilbur followed suit and matched Tommy energy. The two sprinted out the door, scaring Schlatt, who’d been sitting on the stairs. “We’re going lava swimming, Schlatt!”

“Fuck yeah!” The three of them charged full force at a poor, still, unsuspecting pool of lava nearby, shouting at the top of their lungs as they jumped in, one after the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up ‘water pour containers’ because I forgot what jugs were
> 
> also, fun fact if your too sad   
> \--(warning: has to do with salmon reproduction, because you know, wilbur :\ )
> 
> salmon do not in fact have sex to reproduce. the eggs are fertilized after the female has laid them. what does this mean for wilbur's canon lore? that's up to you homie
> 
> i hope that information is useful to you

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
